


judge

by cautiouslyoptimistic



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23321335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cautiouslyoptimistic/pseuds/cautiouslyoptimistic
Summary: it follows her home and she doesn’t know what to door, kara and lena meet through a cat
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 46
Kudos: 769





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: this is a repost! if you wanna read something new by me feel free to send me prompts because I've got a lot of time and zero ideas.

It follows her home and she doesn’t know what to do.

She knows what she _wants_ to do. She wants to make it someone else’s problem. She wants to pretend the tiny little fur ball never even crossed her path. She wants to drop it off at the local animal shelter.

She’s not quite sure what’s stopping her.

All she knows is that the tiny little fur ball looks hungry and scared and contrary to popular belief (she frowns at the thought of her employees), she does _not_ have an ice-cold heart. In fact, she’s warm and bubbly, thank you very much. So in an effort to prove something she feels she shouldn’t even have to prove, she sets out a bowl of milk (cats like that, don’t they?), then crouches down, waiting to see if the fur ball would go for it.

He doesn’t. If anything, he looks terribly unimpressed and vaguely annoyed by her efforts to feed him.

(She hadn’t realized cats were so… _judgey._ )

“You’re the one that followed me home, little man,” she tells the cat, momentarily panicking that she was indeed turning into the very thing her mother always warned her she’d become. “If anyone’s life choices are suspect, it’s yours.”

The cat just continues to stare at her, blinking slowly, and she lets out a groan. In that moment she decides two things: one, she’s going to name her unexpected guest Judge, and two, she really needs to go out and buy Judge some food.

(She’s not much of an animal person, really. But actively keeping one hungry is not on her to-do list.)

“Right. So…you stay here. I’ll go buy whatever it is cats eat. Fish?” Judge ducks his head and curls around himself, clearly disappointed in her. It’s the most passive-aggressive response she’s ever gotten in her life, and that’s _including_ the conversations she’s had with her mother. “Look, my only experience with cats is from Tom and Jerry, okay? Just…I’ll figure it out.” He blinks in response, and she’s vaguely sure he smirks.

(Is that possible? For a cat to smirk? She needs to Google it.)

Regardless, five minutes later she finds herself out the door once more, battling her bone-deep weariness in order to save herself from Judge’s ire.

x

She appreciates the fact that the grocery store is mostly empty on a Wednesday night. No one is around to witness her mortifying indecision as she juggles staring at brands of cat food with the web pages she’s pulled up on her phone, attempting to make an informed choice. (It crosses her mind that she’s woefully ill-equipped for this; she can barely take care of herself, let alone another living thing. This was exactly why she avoided keeping plants at home, despite how much she loved them—she’d only end up killing everything in her path.)

“You have a cat? Well, I mean, of course you have a cat, you’re looking at cat food, though I guess I didn’t want to assume, but you look like you’re trying to cure cancer, and well I know a thing or two about cats, so I can help.”

(She doesn’t want to turn around and face this clearly crazy person in the middle of a grocery store on a Wednesday night. She doesn’t, she doesn’t, she doesn’t—)

(—but of course, she does.)

“That was…quite the speech,” she says, turning to the stranger and well, feeling her heart skip a beat maybe. (Just maybe. She’s had a lot of coffee today, it could’ve been a run of the mill palpitation caused by excess caffeine. It’s probably nothing to do with this crazy woman, this crazy, but oh so beautiful, woman.)

“Um, hi,” the woman says, her eyes widening behind her glasses, one hand tugging on the sleeve of her sweater. A smile appears on her face. “Hi.”

“You said that already.”

“Right. I did.” She fiddles with her glasses, clears her throat, and sticks out her hand. “Hi—I mean, I’m Kara. I can, um, help. With your problem.” Her eyes flick down, a blush rises on her cheeks, and then she looks back up. “Your cat food problem, I mean. Obviously.”

“You own a cat?” (She doesn’t know why she’s continuing this conversation with a clearly insane lady. It has nothing to do with the fact that the insane lady is pretty. None at all.)

“Well, not exactly.” Kara’s blush deepens and she actually looks away. “I’m a reporter. Well, sort of? And my last article was a puff piece on cats and cat owners. So I learned I lot.”

“You’re sort of a reporter?”

“My editor doesn’t like me, he thinks I—and I don’t know why I’m wasting your time with this!” Kara jerks forward, picking up a bag of cat food that’s on the bottom shelf. “Anyway, this is what most cat owners swear by. You should mix things up with some wet cat food too.” She points to the cans closer to the top shelf.

“Thank you, Kara,” she manages, relief coursing through her. She still thinks this woman is mad, but still. She was glad she wouldn’t be responsible for caticide (that’s not a thing, she doesn’t think) because she hadn’t been able to feed the cat that had followed her home. “I tried feeding him milk earlier, and I think he actually laughed at me.”

“Right, well, cats are lactose intolerant. Milk can give them upset stomachs.”

“Wow, you really learned a lot from your puff piece.”

Kara chuckled, shrugging. “That one I learned from experience, actually. We had a cat growing up and feeding her milk…it didn’t go well.” Kara lets out a sigh, smiles, and shrugs again. “But um, you look busy,” Kara gestures to her outfit, the tight dress and the uncomfortable heels, “so I’m going to leave you alone. So, um, bye.”

It’s a hasty farewell, and she not quite prepared for it, so all she manages is a lame “Thank you,” as she watches the (pretty) woman in the large sweater turn and push her cart ladled with ice cream and frozen pizzas towards checkout. All she gets in response is an awkward wave and red ears, which makes her smile. (She smiles not because she finds Kara adorable. It’s because she finds humor in such a strange conversation. It’s because this is a story she could tell her friends—“So there was this lady at the store who…”—if, well, she _had_ any friends.)

She groans, hating that she always manages to ruin her own good mood. 

x

“Miss Luthor… _Lena,_ ” he tries, making her bristle, “you must understand the situation you and your company are in at the moment. With Mr. Luthor’s arrest and your mother’s decision to step away from the company, the public does not trust LuthorCorp. Which means—”

“L-Corp,” she corrects, leaning back in her chair. The man—with his frazzled expression, loose-fitting suit, and scraggly white hair—nods wearily. She idly wonders why he was chosen as the executive vice president. 

“Of course,” he says. “ _L-Corp_ is struggling. Before you can fix the company you must fix the company’s image.” _Oh_ , she realizes, _this is why._ While the man had a tendency to see her as the little girl who used to follow her father around while he worked, he was still one of the few people who stood up to Lex and one of the few who genuinely had the company’s best interests at heart. She closes her eyes, knowing what he’s about to suggest and knowing it’s her only option. “You need to market yourself before you can market L-Corp.”

“What would you suggest? If you haven’t noticed, the press is keen to go after my name every chance they get.”

“They go after the name _Luthor_. You need to market _yourself_. There’s a reason you’re renaming the company. Show the world that the L in L-Corp stands for _Lena_ , not Luthor.”

(It’s the first time she’s ever stared at her executive vice president and thought, hey, this guy isn’t so bad.

She doesn’t quite like how that feels.)

“Clearly you already have a plan.”

“Cat Grant is an old friend of mine,” he says, running his fingers through his hair in a futile attempt to smooth it out. “And by friend I mean she owes me a favor. Though she’s stepping away from CatCo, she still holds a degree of sway. She convinced Snapper Carr to assign one of his reporters to do a weekly piece on you. Your name sells papers, you get some good publicity. Everyone wins.”

She frowns because she’s read Snapper Carr’s articles, and besides Clark Kent, she doesn’t think anyone hates the Luthors as much, even if he does manage to sound unbiased. “How long will this arrangement last?”

“As long as it needs to, Miss Luthor.”

“Fine. I’ll work with this reporter.”

“Excellent. She’s waiting outside.”

Lena, who’d expected to at least get a few days to get used to the idea that she’d be plastered all over the papers once again (she still hasn’t gotten the bad taste of publicity out of her mouth since Lex’s trial), starts to argue, but it’s too late.

The door to her office opens and a woman with glasses and a sweater steps in.

“Oh gosh,” Kara the crazy (though pretty) woman from the grocery store says, eyes wide. “I rambled to a CEO.”

x

Judge the cat does not appreciate:

One, being woken up from naps when Lena is forced to pick him up and move him off her laptop so she can work.

Two, being locked out of Lena’s bedroom at night, meaning that Lena’s new bedmate purrs but it’s not the way she’d like it.

Three, remaining at home alone all day, compelling Lena to take him to work with her, letting him roam around her office and ignoring the looks her assistant throws her way.

(It’s not weird. At least, she doesn’t think so.

And Kara doesn’t think it’s weird either. Though she’s not entirely sure why Kara’s opinion means so much to her after only two interviews.)

“I think it’s great!” Kara says gleefully, holding out her hand for Judge, and to Lena’s astonishment, her grumpy, hates-the-world, can’t-stand-people cat surges forward, purring as Kara scratches below his jaw. “He’s never alone and you’re never alone, it’s such a good idea, more people should do it, really.” Lena’s too surprised to respond; Judge had just taken up residence on Kara’s lap, his head drooping and his eyes closing as Kara petted him.

He was such a stupid cat.

“He likes you,” Lena says, not at all jealous, except she is. He followed _her_ home. He slept in _her_ bed. He ate the food _she_ bought him. His easy attachment to Kara is like…well, it’s like Lena isn’t even good enough for a cat. Which frankly, if any cat should be so lucky. Lena Luthor is fan- _fucking_ -tastic.

“I love animals,” Kara says, grinning widely at Lena’s comment, and for the life of her, she doesn’t know why the jealousy spills away at the sight of that smile. “When I moved to National City, I thought I’d get a dog or something, but then I realized I’d be too busy to properly take care of it and it wouldn’t be fair to the dog.”

“I clock in a lot of hours and I think Judge and I are managing well. Is being a reporter really that busy?”

“Oh well, it’s not just work, it’s—” Kara cuts herself off, mouth falling open. “Oh, never mind,” she says, the stress she places on the words making it awkward. “My life is so boring, so so boring, compared to yours, Miss Luthor.”

“Lena.”

“Sorry?”

“My name. It’s Lena.”

Kara’s mouth opens and closes a few times, something about her expression making Lena’s chest feel tight. “Oh—okay then. Um, the interview.” She blinks rapidly, clearly attempting to find her train of thought. “Since the whole point of this is to humanize you and L-Corp, I was thinking we could talk about your hobbies. You know, the things you do for fun in your free time?”

“What free time?” Lena jokes, trying to stall as she desperately attempts to think of something that sounds better than _I read a lot_. She suddenly wishes she had taken up golf like her father had suggested so long ago. She finds she wants to impress Kara, and somehow she doesn’t think geekily admitting she likes reading up on the latest technological advancements (in essence, her competitors) and watching old _Star Trek_ reruns would impress anyone. _Say something cool_ , she thinks. “I have a fountain pen collection.” _Not that! How is_ that _cool?_

“A fountain—really?”

Lena isn’t really surprised that Kara is looking at her like she’s crazy. _She_ thinks she’s crazy. “I was always rather close to my father. Whenever he went on business trips, he’d bring back a pen. After I lost him…I kept up the tradition.” She doesn’t say, _I collect the pens because they remind me of him._ She doesn’t say _, the pens make me feel closer to him_. She doesn’t say, _I miss him._ But she doesn’t think she needs to. Kara is playing with the pendant Lena’s noticed she always wears, eyes brimming with understanding and sympathy.

“After I lost my parents, I used to sneak onto the roof of my adoptive family’s home, and I’d stare at the stars. All night.” She looks down at Judge, hiding whatever plays on her face as she talks about her family. “I still do it sometimes. When I miss them.”

“I suppose you and I have a lot more in common than I thought,” Lena says, and when Judge nuzzles further into Kara’s lap, she finds she doesn’t mind at all.

x

She gets invited to game night after four interviews and an impromptu lunch together during their fifth when Kara admitted she’d skipped breakfast and was hungry. (“We’ve been a person short since Lucy moved away,” and here Lena doesn’t ask who Lucy is or why she moved away, despite the fact it seems like an important thing to at least address, even in a throwaway comment, “and you’d be perfect! You and I can be a team. I’ll finally _crush_ Winn at Pictionary!” Kara’s enthusiasm is infectious and so Lena nods, agrees to be Lucy’s replacement, and doesn’t think much of it.)

When she finds herself standing outside Kara’s apartment, however, she wonders what had possessed her to make such a colossal mistake.

She’s turning around, not really up to this night with people she didn’t know and a too-friendly reporter, when the door opens behind her (as if Kara was psychic and _knew_ she was there), revealing a grinning Kara and a skeptical looking man.

“Lena! You made it! Ooh, you didn’t have to bring anything,” she says quickly, though she takes the bag Lena offers her. As Kara busies herself digging through the bag while walking towards the kitchen, the man offers Lena his hand and a tiny smile.

“I’m James Olsen. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Luthor.”

“It’s Lena, please,” she says, taking his hand and staring him down. She’d been wrong before. She _does_ know at least one of Kara’s friends: James Olsen is Clark Kent’s best friend and Superman’s biggest fan, thus, Lena is rather sure that hating Luthors is child’s play for him, probably a prerequisite for a rapport with the man in the red cape. “I didn’t realize you left Metropolis.”

“I wouldn’t have missed your brother’s trial otherwise,” James says, one eyebrow raised. And she can hear what he’s saying, of course she can, she’s not _stupid_. He’s warning her and threatening her and trying to scare her off, but Kara lets out an excited squeal at the sight of the potstickers Lena had brought her (“I can’t believe you remembered they’re my favorite, thank you, Lena!”) and Lena has no trouble staring coolly back at James.

“Well I suppose that’s the difference between us then.” Her voice drops and her eyes narrow and she doesn’t even need the subtle look of shock passing over James’s face to know that she’s scared him. “I was there and I committed every single second of the trial to memory.” She wants to say more, she’s not quite done (because she might hate the Luthor name and all it implies, but she _is_ a Luthor at the end of the day), but Kara chooses that moment to bound over to them, a confused expression on her face, worry in her eyes.

“Is everything okay?” she asks. James licks his lips, but he nods quickly, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away. He’s plopped down on the couch, fingers tapping away at his thigh, before Kara places a tentative hand on Lena’s elbow. “ _Is_ everything okay?” she asks, like her friend’s word isn’t enough, like Lena’s feelings matter, and honestly, Lena is fan _-fucking-_ tastic, but she isn’t ready for _this._

(What is _this_? Who knows? Certainly not Lena.

She wonders if that’s something she should be embarrassed about. Or at least slightly concerned about.

She decides not to overthink it.)

“Yes,” she tells Kara with her best smile. “Everything is just fine.”

By the end of the night, she and her partner—Winn, she thinks he’s called, unfortunately she’d been paying more attention to Kara’s smile when she introduced him than what she was saying—lose spectacularly to James and Kara, James having ‘called’ Kara as his partner before anyone could say a word (namely, before Lena could). But Lena doesn’t mind. By the time she gets home, allowing Judge to curl up next to her in bed, she can confidently say that she’s named him accurately and that he’s an excellent judge of character. After all, she can understand his reaction to Kara now.

Something about her just puts one at ease.

x

Seeing Supergirl for the first time is not what she expects. That is, she doesn’t expect what she gets. That is, she’d no idea what to expect and thus is quite surprised. That is—it doesn’t matter. The point is Supergirl is well… _super._

She thinks her trouble with finding a better description for the superhero has to do with the fact that moments ago, she’d nearly died in her helicopter. All the shaking and blasting and jerking is bound to make anyone momentarily have trouble with the English language.

And besides, it’s not as if Supergirl sticks around to chat. The second she’s sure Lena is safe, she’s off, gone to help her cousin with whatever had attacked Lena and random innocents in National City.

When Kara comes to her office a few hours later, Lena assumes it’s because she’s heard what happened and had wanted to check up on her. (That would be characteristic of Kara’s sweet and caring personality.) So she’s understandably off her game when _Clark_ _Kent_ accompanies Kara, that they seem to be _friendly_ with each other, that _Clark Kent_ only decides Lena has nothing to do with the madman who’s loose because he’s targeting _her_.

She has every right to be offended, she thinks.

Every right.

“Mr. Kent, I’m sorry you wasted a trip to National City, but the story you’re looking for just isn’t here.” She stands, circling around her desk and crossing her arms tightly over her chest, struggling to maintain her composure. She’d nearly died, dammit. For what? For Superman’s second biggest fan (James Olsen would always be number one) to tell her that because her name is Luthor she will never be free of suspicion and skepticism? “I’m not power-hungry, I don’t care enough for either Supergirl or Superman to want them dead, or really any alien for that matter, and world domination is not on L-Corp’s yearly agenda.” She holds her head up high, ignoring Kara’s expression, focusing her attention on Clark Kent. “I’m just a woman trying to make a name for myself. And your efforts to undermine that is not appreciated.”

“Miss Luthor, my only aim is to get to the truth. If you say you’re not involved—”

“—in the latest attempt against my own life? Thank you, Mr. Kent, for having so much faith in me.”

“I only mean that Lex Luthor pulled this sort of stunt before. Garnered public sympathy by staging—”

“—perhaps you should find Supergirl and ask her if she felt my helicopter nearly crashing felt _staged_.” She uncrosses her arms and gestures towards the door. “And this interview is over. You can tell Mr. White at the Daily Planet that he needs to find another supervillain to sell papers with, I’m not interested.” Judge, bless the tiny little fur ball, lets out a hiss from where he’s curled up on Lena’s couch, and Clark Kent seems to deflate, everything about him looking apologetic.

“You’re right. For what it’s worth, Miss Luthor, I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions. Kara did say she was sure you weren’t involved, but I admit I allowed your brother’s history to cloud my judgment.” He smiles genuinely, and perhaps for a second Lena can understand what Lois Lane sees in him. He’s charming in an awkward and surprising way. “I’ll see myself out. Kara?”

“I’ll catch up,” she says, and Lena watches as the two of them have a silent conversation with a series of blinks and head tilts before Clark Kent sighs and turns, muttering out a farewell as he leaves Lena’s office. When she and Kara are alone, her first instinct is to chat away with the reporter who’d somehow become her friend. She wants to tell Kara about Supergirl, about the helicopter, about how _glad_ she is her pilot would be all right. But Lena ignores her first instinct, and instead waits for Kara to break the silence. And she does, with alarming quickness: “I told him you weren’t involved.”

“So he said.”

“I didn’t doubt you, not for a second.”

“You’re likely the only one.”

“That’s not true. Our weekly articles—”

“Oh Kara, don’t you get it?” Lena sighs, leaning against her desk. “The articles are a joke.” Kara looks hurt by the comment, and Lena hastens to explain. “You write beautiful articles every week. And I love them. But people have already made up their minds about the Luthor name. It doesn’t matter what you write, I’ll always be a Luthor, and people will always come after me with pitchforks and torches.”

“Well that’s stupid,” Kara mutters, a blush on her cheeks, though Lena’s not quite sure why. She plays with her glasses as she frowns, clearly thinking through her next words. “That’s like people not letting Supergirl escape Superman’s shadow. They’re two separate people, they should be judged on their own merits.” Her mouth presses into a grim smile, a ferocious look appearing in her eyes. “And your actions, Lena, speak for themselves. You’re not like your brother. I know it.”

“Coming from my only friend in National City, that means more than you know.”

(Kara blushes again, and Lena just doesn’t know why.

But she likes it. The blush, the smile, the ducked head. She finds she wants to reach out and… _oh_.)

“…exactly true,” Kara is saying, and Lena has to physically shake her head, clearing her thoughts and attempting to figure out what Kara just said.

“Sorry?”

“I said you have more than just me. Winn likes you. James doesn’t like admitting he likes you, but he does. And I’m sure my sister would love you! You’re both really smart and beautiful and—” She cuts herself off, looking alarmed. “My point is, you have friends. All of us know what it’s like to be overshadowed by a name or a person or an idea.” She shrugs as she bends over to pick up Judge, who’s been curling around her leg. She pets him, smiling widely when his eyes close. “I know you think you are, but you’re not alone, Lena.”

Lena reaches out to take her cat from Kara, and if their hands brush, well, it’s totally on accident. “Thank you, Kara,” she says, and it doesn’t feel like it’s enough.

x

She doesn’t know why she’s surprised that Lex is behind the crazy man trying to kill her. She doesn’t know why it hurts so much to think that her brother—who is certifiably _evil_ —wants her dead. After all, Lex wants everyone dead, she’s not really all that special.

(So what if she thought those years they grew up together, those nights they spent reading books with a flashlight, those looks they’d give each other when Lillian was being her passive-aggressive self, made her exempt from Lex’s madness?

So what if she thought that her brother would remember that he was her _brother_?)

After shooting the madman during that press conference that went all wrong (she forgets that just because she’s rebranded her company and she sees it in a new light doesn’t mean everyone else does), Lena gives herself one night. She opens a bottle of expensive wine, settles on the couch in front of the television, and spends the night drinking, cuddling with Judge, and drunkenly muttering protests (“No, Rachel, you belong with _Monica and Phoebe_ , stop being so stupid, he doesn’t deserve you”).

She falls asleep thinking that the only thing that could’ve made this night better is potstickers, and her drunken mind doesn’t connect the dots as to why that is.

x

She watches the news surrounding the President’s Alien Amnesty Act with interest.

Lena Luthor grew up around men and women who thrived on politics, and she knows how to sniff out deception. And the Amnesty Act—with all its talk about making aliens feel welcome and safe—is nothing more than a voluntary alien registration, a way to keep tabs on their visitors from other worlds.

Biting her lip, she exits out of the last article she read and pushes her laptop away, leaning back in her chair. Without really meaning to, her eyes trail towards where she knows the alien detection prototype is hidden, just waiting for her decision to make a few final touches and go into production or scrap entirely.

(It’s not like she doesn’t like aliens. She doesn’t even know any aliens to dislike. What she does know is that it was an alien that led to her brother going mad. What she does know is that these aliens have powers and technologies beyond human understanding. What she does know is that just because she doesn’t believe these aliens are all bad, it doesn’t mean she should idly sit back and wait for the few that are to hurt innocent people.

Being prepared is key. She never wants to be caught unawares again, not after everything that had happened with Lex.)

Her alien detection device is _logical_ , not xenophobic. So she’s surprised when Kara doesn’t see it that way.

“What you’re doing is giving people the tools to act on their dislike and distrust of aliens,” she says, shaking her head when Lena joking holds the device towards her. “What message does it send when L-Corp—which has changed direction to become more philanthropic—decides to market a device for the sole purpose of outing aliens who’re living peacefully among humans?”

“You’re saying we don’t have the right to know who our neighbors are? If they could be dangerous?”

“But that’s not what you’re proposing here. This device,” she stares at it distastefully, as if it’s done her personal wrong, “doesn’t tell someone if an alien is good or bad or is likely to attack a human. All it does is run a test on DNA, analyzing whether or not it’s from this planet. You’d learn more about a person if you just talked to them.”

“This technology would come out eventually, Kara,” Lena says, frowning. “And while I admire your belief in the good in people, would it really hurt to be prepared?”

“When you’re producing an item that can stoke people’s xenophobia, then yes!”

“You don’t like my device but you’re perfectly content with the President’s Act?”

“The Amnesty Act is voluntary. No one _has_ to register. But your device takes the choice out of the alien’s hands. They’re already marked as different, Lena. Why would make life difficult for the few who can pass peacefully as humans?”

“You mean like Supergirl?” Lena scoffs, and for whatever reason, Kara’s expression hardens.

“I would have thought if anyone understood the importance of being judged by one’s own merits, it’d be you.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket and stares at the blank screen. “James is calling, I gotta go to work.”

“Kara, wait—”

“I’ll see you later, Lena.” And without a look back, Kara turns on her heel and stalks out of Lena’s office.

After a day full of meetings, Lena calls Kara when it’s pushing midnight, but for the first time since she’s known the reporter, she doesn’t get an answer.

x

Several days later, the article is published, and Lena bites her lip at the _lack_ of Kara she sees in it. If her name hadn’t been on the byline, Lena wouldn’t have believed Kara even wrote it.

And when Kara arrives for their regularly scheduled weekly meeting, she’s morose, she’s quiet, and though she admits that Carr had her rewrite her article several times before he was satisfied it was unbiased enough, though she admits that there’s truth the fact that some aliens just aren’t good, Lena feels a certain degree of…standoffishness from Kara.

(Almost as if the reporter is afraid to get too close, as if she’s erected walls between the two of them out of fear and worry, and Lena doesn’t know what to do or say to get back the relationship they had before.

Because when Kara smiles at her as she is about to leave, it’s sad and small and it breaks Lena’s heart.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: I really miss season one kara. and alex.

Kara hates stairs.

There’s just something counterintuitive about someone who can _fly_ using the stairs, and the only reason she doesn’t throw caution to the wind and fly anyway is because of J’onn’s speech. As much as she finds stairs inconvenient, the speech about using powers responsibly is even worse, mostly because it does what Alex’s exasperated looks cannot: guilt her into not using her powers.

It’s annoying, really. And frustrating because CatCo has _so many_ stairs and the elevators have been busted for nearly a week now.

(She bets there’s no one around telling Clark he can’t use _his_ powers.

Except maybe Lois. But then, Lois has always been a tad controlling. Not that Kara would admit that to Lois’s face.

She’s scary, okay?)

“James, you realize the elevators _still_ don’t work?” Kara says as she steps into his swanky new office (unchanged since Cat Grant passed it to him), ignoring his assistant’s spluttering indignation at her entrance “without an appointment.”

“What—oh, right, I was supposed to call maintenance for that then I got distracted by the images that needing proofing and the articles that needed my okay…” he trails off, staring at a stack of papers on his desk, looking mildly. “I don’t know how Cat did it, Kara. The workload…it’s insane.”

“Well, I mean, she _did_ have a great assistant,” Kara says, smiling a little, a little put out when it seems like James hasn’t even heard her. “James?”

“What?” He looks up, eyes widening when he sees her. “Oh right, we were talking.”

“Um, yeah. Are you all right, James?”

“Of course, yeah. Absolutely.” He nods vigorously, his frazzled expression not helping his case. “Did you need something?”

“The elevators?”

“Oh right. Maintenance.” He blinks several times and gets to his feet, escaping his desk and heading right past Kara and out the door to the office.

“James, where are you going?”

“Hopefully to find Cat. She can have her company back, I don’t want it,” he says as he walks away.

Kara can’t tell if he’s being serious.

She’s about to follow him and find out when Snapper Carr corners her, waving a piece of paper in her face.

“You’ve got an assignment, Danvers,” he says brusquely, indicating with his chin that she should take the paper. After a moment (and an uneasy expression), Kara does.

“I already have an assignment, the Luthor—”

“The puff piece can wait,” he says over her. “There are anti-alien protests cropping up all over the city. Go get some quotes, find out who the organizer is.”

“You want me to interview people who hate aliens?”

“Is that a problem?” he asks, expression as annoyed as ever. _Yes_ , she thinks. _It’s a huge problem._

“Nope! Not at all, why would it be a problem? No problem.”

Carr pinches the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted and as if he’s actively questioning his life choices. “Go, Danvers,” he says tiredly when she continues to mumble under her breath about how much it just isn’t a problem. She nods vigorously and is barely two steps away when he calls after her. “And I need a draft of your next Luthor piece on my desk by tomorrow!”

As she heads back to the stairwell, Kara wonders if anyone—even _J’onn_ —would blame her if she used her powers to throw Snapper Carr into space.

Honestly, she doesn’t think so.

x

Once, soon after coming to Earth, Kara had been watching the news with Eliza, and a picture of a man who’d killed an entire family in a fit of rage had appeared on the screen. In the photo, he had dirty hair and narrowed eyes, his nose turned up (in disgust or pride or arrogance or guilt, Kara didn’t know or care), looking terribly _normal_. But the photo and story had shaken her up, and she’d buried her face in Eliza’s midriff, holding her foster mother tightly around the waist and asked _why_. Krypton had criminals that her mother dealt with, but murderers, as far as Kara could recall, were rare. Yet this planet seemed to have an endless supply of them.

Eliza had hugged her and said that for all the good in the world, there was sometimes some evil. One just had to hope that there’d be enough good one day to overpower the evil.

(When she’d gotten a rare visit from Clark, she’d asked him, too. _Why?_ Why was it worth being Superman when some people on this planet weren’t worthy of his protection?

And he’d just answered it wasn’t his job to determine worth, but to help as many people as he could.)

She attempts to remember that now, unable to get the enormous signs and angry expressions from the protest out of her head. It makes her feel sick—practically weak—as the same people who lauded Supergirl and praised her for her works, claim that Earth is no place for _aliens_. (As if Supergirl isn’t an alien, as if the fact that she looks like one of them is enough for her to stay—even if they fear her powers and past.)

A part of her realizes that she’s likely too close to this, a part of her admits that she could never be impartial and unbiased the way Snapper Carr wants her to be. Because _this_ , this protest, this inability to accept that which is different, this _hate_ , is personal—it has to do with her, directly affects her, makes her intimately involved in ways the rest of the world would never even guess. She’s Supergirl, the cousin of the great Superman, universally loved and respected, somehow not lumped into the same category as those who face vitriol and disgust. ( _Why_? she asks now. What makes her different, what makes her less alien? That her eyes are blue and her hair is blonde? That she can pass as human?)

She’s not in the right mindset to face Lena Luthor now. She knows that.

But she goes anyway.

(She has to get a quote, that’s all.

She doesn’t miss Lena’s easy smile or her grumpy cat. She doesn’t miss those eyes that seem too knowing and too old, those shoulders that carried the same sort of weight as her own.)

(It’s not that, despite Lena’s unfortunate desire to take advantage of people’s fear and distrust in order to make money, Kara thinks if anyone can understand how she feels it’s Lena. After all, a Luthor is branded the same way as an alien, granted the same privileges through her money as Supergirl is by the symbol on her chest.) 

Jess the assistant doesn’t look all too surprised to see Kara when she arrives at L-Corp, but her lips are pressed into a thin line as she heads into Lena’s office to ‘determine whether Miss Luthor is available.’ It takes an agonizing five minutes before Jess returns, lips pressed even tighter together (if that’s even possible), her expression torn between wariness and forced politeness as she motions for Kara to enter Lena’s office.

Lena’s back is turned to the door when Kara enters, her attention on something in the far corner. It takes a second, but Kara realizes Lena is attempting to coax Judge off the couch, mumbling under her breath when he stubbornly remains put.

“I’m sorry, Kara,” Lena says as she turns around, “but it seems Judge is not in the mood to be reasonable. He won’t share the couch.”

“That’s fine. This is a quick visit anyway. I just need a few quotes—”

“—are you still upset with me?” Lena interrupts, staring down at Judge one more time before taking purposeful steps back to her desk. She leans against it, her arms crossed over her chest, one eyebrow raised inquisitively. Kara wonders how Lena always manages to look so indifferent and composed. It’s a talent she thinks would come in handy, especially for the number of times she finds herself in situations that require a fair bit of…well, _cool_.

“It’s not really my place to be upset with you,” Kara mumbles, unable to help looking down and straightening her glasses. When her gaze meets Lena’s once more, Lena is frowning, appearing almost… _bothered_? (Maybe a little bit hurt, though Kara has no idea why that would be.)

“Well, what did you need quotes on?” she asks, her arms falling to her sides, a smile appearing on her lips. The transformation from slightly hurt to all business is quick and frankly, Kara is left feeling vaguely lost. She’s never experienced such whiplash except in flight. (Not that that’s something she goes around telling people…)

“You mentioned that you liked to cook before. What are your favorite recipes? Is there something you turn to when feeling down or stressed?”

Lena tilts her head to the side, eyes focused so intently on Kara that she thinks Lena is about to read her mind or shoot lasers, then lets out a sigh. “My earliest memory—and this is before my adoption I think—is of apple pie.” She closes her eyes and licks her lips, as if transported through time just at the very thought. “It was just normal pie, the kind you can buy premade at the supermarket, but if I focus hard enough, I can still see the chunks of apple, can still taste the cinnamon, can still hear the crunch of the crust.” Her smile changes—it becomes less pronounced, more sincere—as her eyes open. “My mother likes to joke about it, she thinks it’s all a waste of time, but when I’m sad, I bake apple pie. Something about it warms me up.”

(Kara resists the urge to close her own eyes and tries to remember what Krypton smelled like, if the air was ever filled with the scent of cooking food. She wonders if it had actually been as sweet as she recalls.

She buys an apple pie on her way back home. It doesn’t warm her up—but then, she hadn’t expected it to.)

x

Alex speaks up after the third time Kara lets out a longsuffering sigh.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with _you_?” Kara returns, sounding more than a little silly. She groans, throws herself back onto the couch, and as expected, Alex tosses a pillow right onto her face. “It’s Lena,” she admits after a moment, her voice coming out muffled. Alex doesn’t say anything for a long moment, choosing instead to shove Kara’s legs off the couch, making room for her to sit down.

“What about Lena?” she asks cautiously. Kara twitches her nose until the pillow slips off her face, shifting enough so that she can look at her sister.

“I don’t know,” she admits, waiting to see Alex’s reaction, hoping her older sister would have some sort of answer for her. To her disappointment and relief, Alex’s only reaction is to smile—which means Kara’s issue isn’t a big but it also means Alex has no intention of spelling it out for her.

Except, for the first time in what seems like eons, Alex takes her by surprise.

“Don’t worry, Kara,” she says, wrapping her arms around Kara’s waist and squeezing. “We can deal with our girl problems together.”

“What? I—no, it’s not the same as you and Maggie. Lena’s not—I’m not…we’re _friends_. I think.” 

“You think?”

“I can’t get a read on her. One minute she’s kind and gentle and just…good. And the next she’s making alien detection devices.”

“You don’t think we can trust her?”

“I _know_ we can trust her. But I…” She trails off, not knowing what it is that so bothers her. She _is_ sure that Lena’s a good person, that she’d do the right thing. So what’s making her feel so hesitant? ( _Fear_ , she thinks before she can roughly push it away. _Fear_ of Lena’s perfectly constructed smile, that her charm and kindness would dissipate the second she learned that Kara is not only an alien, but an alien related to Superman.)

(What if, she wonders, Lena knows exactly what she’s doing by wanting to produce the alien detection device?

And if this is what she’s so worried about, why is it that she finds it so easy to trust Lena anyway?)

“Do you miss Maggie?” Kara asks, mostly to move the conversation along, to avoid thinking about Lena. But once again, Alex doesn’t do what Kara expects. Rather than let it go, she smiles knowingly.

“About as much as you miss Lena Luthor.”

(Which is to say, a lot.)

x

“What is this, Danvers?” Carr asks, flipping through her piece, his expression unfriendly. (But then, he always looks unfriendly, so Kara’s not quite sure how to gauge how upset he is at the moment.) “We already had a talk about you not writing opinion pieces.”

“Right, but this is different! The alien detection device is one thing, but these protests…they’re _awful_.”

“That’s your _opinion_ , Danvers,” Carr says, pressing his fingers against his temples. “It isn’t your job to dictate how people should feel about something—”

“—but if it’s so _obvious_ —”

“Do you want to be a journalist or not, Danvers?” Carr demands, seemingly finally at wit’s end. “Because you’re not a half bad writer and if you listened and left your emotions out of your work, you could make a decent reporter.”

“Decent? Really?” It’s practically glowing praise coming from Snapper Carr, but judging by the vaguely constipated look on his face, it had come out with difficulty and she’ll likely never hear something similar from him again.

“My _point_ ,” he continues, completely ignoring Kara, “is that your job is to report the truth. No more and no less.”

“But—”

“There are no buts, Danvers,” Carr interrupts yet again, officially going from unfriendly to downright irritated. His eyes narrow and he uses a red pen to cross out entire paragraphs in her piece, massacring her work without mercy. “Journalism is about the truth. When you allow your opinions and beliefs to get in the way of what you’re reporting, you take away a reader’s agency—you take away their right to decide what to think. This job isn’t about selling your point of view, it’s about who, what, when, where, why, and how. That’s it.”

“But it’s _wrong_. These protests are about hate.”

For the first time, there’s a flash of understanding, even sympathy, in Carr’s eyes before he hardens. “The people who are out there protesting don’t care what you think. And those who haven’t made up their minds about the protests are less likely to listen to someone they think is trying to sway their opinion.” He gets to his feet and hands over her piece. All his marks, corrections, and scratch outs have practically left her work unrecognizable. “Be patient and stick with the truth, Danvers. You’d be surprised by how much of a difference you’ll make.” He’s obviously speaking from experience, and Kara desperately wishes he weren’t so mean so that she’d be more willing to take his advice.

(But a part of her recognizes it wouldn’t have mattered anyway—patience has never been her strong suit.)

x

Veronica Sinclair’s words hit their target with impressive accuracy, cutting right into Kara with a viciousness she hasn’t experienced thus far.

(Before, with Astra and Nan, she was fixing her mother’s mistakes. She was righting the wrongs her family had committed. But she, herself, had not been culpable. She merely was responsible for cleaning up the mess.

But this time, the mess is hers.)

Alex notices she’s off almost as soon as she returns to the DEO, but ultimately, it’s J’onn who tracks her down, standing next to her on the balcony as she stares up at the sky, trying to remember what it was that she was trying to accomplish, trying to remember who she is—not Kara Zor-El or Kara Danvers or even Supergirl but just…just _Kara_.

(She had thought she was about helping people. She had thought she was about being a hero. But Veronica is right: what has she ever done for aliens? What has she ever given them but another reason to hide?)

“Kara Zor-El was sent to Earth to protect her cousin,” J’onn says softly when it becomes clear that she will not be the one to break the silence, to admit her fears, her loss of direction. “But Kara Danvers can choose any life she wants. No one can blame you for not knowing what that life is, Kara.”

“But I _do_ know what life I want to lead. I want to help people, to protect them. But who do I protect? The refugees like me who have to hide who they really are or the people of Earth?”

“Anyone who lives on this planet is one of those people on Earth,” J’onn says, placing a hand on Kara’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “You don’t have to choose between those who were born here and those who weren’t.” Kara closes her eyes at the warmth of J’onn’s gesture before she pulls away, turning her eyes away from the sky and towards the city below them.

“But what if it comes down to that? She was right, what _have_ I done for the aliens on this planet? I didn’t even know there were so many!”

“Kara—”

“You and Alex knew, you knew about all those alien refugees, about their missing technology, that Mon-El isn’t unique in escaping his planet—that others have done it too.”

“Kara—”

“I was sent here to protect my cousin. What if my job is now to protect all these other aliens who’ve been stranded here, alone and afraid?”

J’onn releases Kara’s shoulder, prompting her to turn to him. And while she loves Alex, while she firmly believes there’s nothing she and her sister can’t share with one another, she’s glad that it’s J’onn who came to speak with her and not Alex. After all, Alex would not have understood Kara’s guilt, her indecision, the way J’onn does.

“Protecting Kal-El is a job your mother left for you,” he says, voice barely above a deep rumble, something soothing and gentle about it. “You have a purpose, Kara. And it can be whatever you want it to be.”

x

“Ah, Kara. Can I help you with something?” The _again_ is tacit, and Kara finds herself wincing as she takes a seat in the small chair across from Lena’s desk, watching as Lena doesn’t even look up from her computer. Since asking the CEO for her help locating Roulette’s newest fight club location, things have been less tense and more icy between them, a severance of whatever fragile friendship they’d built. And more than anything—more than feeling guilty about how she’d abandoned the people like her, more than feeling lost and scared, more than not knowing what her next step will be—Kara just misses Lena.

(She tries not to think about how telling it is. But the truth remains: she and Lena are far more similar than they are different.)

Before she can speak—she’s not quite sure what she’d even say—she feels Judge brush against her leg, and she bends over, smiling as she places him on her lap, savoring his contented purrs as she pets him.

“That damn cat is a traitor,” Lena murmurs, and when Kara looks up, Lena’s abandoned her work, choosing to stare at Judge instead.

“Cats have a good sense about people,” Kara offers, trying not to wince again when Lena meets her gaze, raising one eyebrow imperiously. (She tries and fails, but that’s okay, because it brings a smile to Lena’s lips.)

“Do they?”

“Oh yeah, of course,” Kara nods quickly, looking back down at her lap, unable to meet Lena’s gaze any longer. “For example, Judge knows that I’m very sorry about being so distant. And he knows that I’m here to apologize for asking for your help when…well, when I was being a big jerk.” She chances a look at Lena, her ears heating up when she notices that the CEO appears more than a little amused as her choice of words.

“He’s still a traitor,” she laughs, leaning back in her chair. “But you have no reason to apologize, Kara. I’m always happy to help, especially if it means getting back at people I didn’t like in boarding school.” Something about her smile turns positively dangerous and Kara very nearly shivers. “So should I assume your _friend_ is Supergirl? I read your article—it seems you have an endless supply of important sources.”

“None as great as you,” Kara says without thinking, abandoning petting Judge in favor of busying herself with her glasses. “Not that—I mean, you’re great, of course. It’s just not the—it’s you know…pfffft, I haven’t had much sleep lately, can you tell?” 

“Working on another dazzling article?”

“Just…feeling unsure, I think,” Kara admits, watching as Lena’s smile fades to be replaced with something like concern. (It’s almost as if she’s actively trying to hide the extent of what she feels, but Kara can hear the change in her heart rate, its slight increase in beats, the soft hitch of Lena’s breath.) “I spent my entire life thinking I was supposed to do one thing, and now…and now I have all these choices and opportunities and decisions to make, and it’s just—”

“—hard?” Lena finishes for her, waving her hand when Kara stares at her in shock. “My father raised me to one day take over his life’s work,” she explains, gesturing around her. “Not that my mother was pleased, especially as she felt Lex was more suited to running a business than me…” She swallows hard, biting her lip, clearly lost in thought. When she continues, her tone is remarkably softer, tinged with a bitterness that Kara hasn’t heard from her thus far. “When Lex…when he did what he did, I had a choice. I could’ve walked away—from the expectation, the worry, the _name_ —but I didn’t. And here we are.”

“Do you regret it? Choosing to do what’s expected of you, what others wanted from you?”

“No,” Lena answers quickly and easily, not looking at all inclined to elaborate. “But I do sometimes think I went with the easier choice.”

“Easier? How can rebuilding L-Corp and everything that comes with that be _easy_?”

“Because there’s foundation, there’s something I can build _on_. And rebuilding is far simpler than creating something new.”

“You’ve forged your own path, I’d say that’s creating something new,” Kara says, watching with a smile as it’s Lena’s turn to have pink-tinged ears, her turn to avert her eyes.

“Whatever it is that you’re grappling with,” Lena says once she’s recovered, looking serious once more, “I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s best.”

“How can you be so sure?” (She doesn’t mean to sound petulant, really, she doesn’t.)

“Because you’re passionate and driven, and more importantly, you’re kind.”

(Kara blushes furiously and they go one to discuss other things, from Judge the cat to Lena’s inability to function until she’s had her third cup of coffee to how Kara is excited about having her foster mother visit for Thanksgiving. And when Kara gets up and is about to leave, Lena grabs her elbow with a worried expression. “Mind keeping the part about Lex off the record?” she asks, and Kara can’t help but smile.

“Nothing about this visit was _on_ the record,” she says, patting Lena’s hand. “I just wanted to see you.”)

(She turns away, so she doesn’t see Lena’s expression, but she hears that telltale hitch, that hike in her heart rate.

And for whatever reason, she can’t keep the smile off her face all throughout her flight back to her apartment.)

x

“So you and Maggie are trying to be friends, huh? How did pool go?”

“Awkward. But not in a bad way. More like in a ‘this will eventually be less awkward’ sort of way.”

“That seems pretty bad to me.”

“Okay, fine. What about you and Lena? You guys must have made up since you’re all smiley now.”

“Um, excuse me, I have no clue what you’re talking about, we were never at odds.”

“Right, so you texted me about another Lena who you were sure hated you after you had to ask for a favor?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. None at all. You’re crazy, seeing things, mad.”

“If you’re done…”

“Wait. Insane! Okay, now I’m done.”

“So you’re serious about wanting to be responsible for Mon-El? Honestly, that seems like a lot of work.”

“Do you think it’ll work out?”

“I don’t know. He’s decent enough, if a bit chatty. And so clueless.”

(Kara shifts under the covers, turning so that she’s laying on her side, facing Alex. Her sister continues to stare at her phone, dutifully ignoring Kara’s eyes.)

“I want to invite her to Thanksgiving.” That has Alex’s attention. She turns her head so suddenly, Kara is sure she hears a crack.

“What?”

“She says she spends it alone! No one should have to spend Thanksgiving alone.”

“Weren’t Winn and James enough? Now you want to bring a third person who’s in love with you to Thanksgiving?”

“I—wh-you…that makes no sense at all, Alex,” she finishes lamely, kicking Alex deftly in the shin. “Speaking of James, he seems really tired lately, doesn’t he?”

“Makes you wonder how Cat Grant managed to ever get anything done,” Alex mutters, her attention turning back to her phone. “He might just be nervous because Lucy is coming back. She also says the next time the DEO needs someone to go overseas months at a time, it has to be me.”

“I thought she volunteered! Did she—”

“She was too late for the parents. But she’s bringing the infant with her.” Alex grins. “She told me she named him Jimmy Junior. James is going to _freak_.” She sounds terribly excited by the fact, and Kara can’t help but let out a chuckle and relax against her pillows, wrapping her covers more tightly around herself.

“I know I made you feel differently,” Kara says softly, just loud enough that Alex can hear, but quiet enough that she knows she doesn’t need to respond to this confession, “but as nice as it is to spend time with Clark, with someone like me, I’m glad he left me with you, Eliza, and Jeremiah. I’m proud to be a Danvers. And I’m so happy that you’re my sister.”

Alex sniffs, but before Kara can point out her watery eyes, Alex has pulled her into an uncomfortable hug that neither of them pull away from. And for the first time since wading through the anti-alien protest, Kara feels back at home.

(She smiles as she finds that Eliza had been right: good _could_ overpower the evil in the world, and sometimes, you’d find all the good you’d ever need in your sister’s arms.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: my lena is better than the show's lena. sorry

Lena Luthor is having a bad day.

It’d started off with a lack of coffee, which in and of itself should have been a sign. (Jess is still frantically attempting to figure out what happened to the intern who was supposed to bring coffee, but the damage has already been done.) After the lack of coffee, she’d been in and out of meetings discussing the falling price of L-Corp stock, listening to the frantic cries to begin production of the alien detection device (and if she’s a little hesitant, it’s nothing to do with Kara, of course).

And then there’s the nail in the coffin of her bad day: a surprise visit from her mother.

Ordinarily, Jess would have sent her mother away, well aware of their tense relationship and fiercely protective of Lena. But as it’s a Friday, Lena had sent Jess home early, fully intending to do the same herself, tired of her own indecision and listening to old men lecturing her.

She’s never regretted a decision more.

“I didn’t know you were in National City,” Lena says as she stands, offering her mother a stiff smile. She honestly hadn’t known—if she had, she would’ve made sure _she_ wasn’t in National City.

“I thought I’d spend more time here, be closer to my family.” (Does that mean Lillian Luthor has _moved_ here? She wouldn’t, would she?)

“I was under the impression that Lex’s prison is in Metropolis.” 

Her mother does that half smile she does when she’s angry but doesn’t want to show it yet, silently stewing away on the inside.

“I see you’re still quite fond of sarcasm. I would have thought being CEO would make you act more your age.”

“I learned from the best,” Lena says, raising one eyebrow. “Was there something you needed, Mother?”

“Well, yes, actually.” (Lena isn’t surprised. Really, she isn’t. And she’s not hurt either. She just idly wonders just how long her mother has been in National City before she decided she needed Lena’s help enough to warrant ‘familial bonding time.’) “I hear you’re developing a certain device to help track down aliens.”

“That’s not what it’s for,” Lena begins, her guards going up almost immediately. She’s seen that look in Lillian’s eyes before—the coldness, the hardness, the unrelenting determination—and she knows it can’t mean anything good.

“But that’s what it does, doesn’t it?” her mother asks, her turn to raise her eyebrows. When Lena doesn’t respond, she lets out a laugh and walks over to pour herself a drink. She tuts as her eyes fall on a slumbering Judge. “You bring a cat to work?”

“He gets lonely.” It’s a stupid response, she regrets it the second it comes out of her mouth.

“Much like his owner,” she says with a nod, making Lena’s blood boil. She’s about to show her mother the way out, when she’s stunned into silence by her mother’s next words. “Is that why you’re becoming so sentimental with that reporter? The one who writes those ghastly articles?”

“I think she’s a talented writer.”

“I don’t care about the reporter’s _talent_ ,” Lillian Luthor scoffs, “I care about the disgusting nonsense I’ve been reading about you.”

“I’m trying to humanize myself and L-Corp. Most people are fond of sentimentality.”

“So that’s why you’re discussing apple pie? To help the company?” It’s not really a question, and Lena knows it, choosing to stare at her mother in silence, leaning a bit against her desk. She wishes she was more like her father—she wishes she could strike an imposing image, intimidate all who walk into her office with nothing but a look and a smile.

“You chose to walk away from L-Corp, Mother,” Lena says patiently. It’s a bold-faced lie. Her mother fought her tooth and nail for LuthorCorp, and it was only because of Lex’s careful wording (something she’s still not quite sure she should be grateful for or suspicious of—whether her brother wanted her to attain control of the company in the event he was gone because he believed she deserved it or because he thought she’d continue his work) that she managed to come out on top. She wonders if her mother is thinking of those board meetings now—the harsh words that were exchanged, the unspoken promises to act as if the final result had been graceful and intended. “You can’t come here now and question how I’ve decided to run things.”

“Fine,” she answers, placing her untouched glass on Lena’s desk and holding up her hands. It’s only because Lena knows her that she senses the undercurrent of anger boiling right below that calm façade. “Give me the prototype of your device and I’ll be on my way.”

(Lena is suddenly glad for all the years she spent schooling herself, controlling every smile and gesture, because her eyes do not stray to where she knows the prototype is shelved away.

Thank goodness for small mercies.)

“I’m afraid there is no prototype,” she says slowly and carefully, wanting to make sure her mother understands. It’s not that she thinks Lillian Luthor has nefarious plans for it, it’s just that…she doesn’t trust her mother. She hasn’t forgotten Lillian Luthor’s reaction to her first girlfriend, the attempts to convince Lex to spend less time with her as ‘he was distracting himself for no good reason,’ the cutting remarks made with a soft tone, things like _sit up_ , _don’t speak_ , and _at least_ act _like a Luthor._

Lena knows her mother, and she knows that Lillian certainly doesn’t want the alien detection device out of the goodness of her heart.

(And if Lena is thinking about what Kara said, if the words _distrust_ and _dislike_ and _xenophobia_ are running through her head relentlessly, well. Kara has a stupid way of getting into one’s head and not coming out.)

“What do you mean there’s no prototype?”

“It was scrapped after it was determined that it had major flaws.”

“Do you still have a team working on it?”

“I don’t know if I’m willing to invest more time and money on it, Mother. Perhaps you saw that L-Corp’s—”

“You’ll let me know when you’ve made a decision then,” her mother says, stepping towards the door, clearly signaling their visit is over.

“What do you want it for?” Lena asks before her mother is gone, watching as she stumbles just a tad, clearly not expecting the question. (Lena has done a lot of things, she’s been a disappointment in a lot of ways, but she’s never questioned her mother.)

“Would you believe that a woman in my book club thinks her pool boy is an alien?” Lillian Luthor says, turning around slowly, her tone cheery and light. “And well, when we asked him outright he seemed very odd and refused to answer. He must be hiding _something_.”

“Why? Perhaps your friend’s pool boy just understands you’re not entitled to that information,” Lena says without thinking, parroting Kara in a moment of weakness. She watches as her mother’s perfect smile fades and is replaced by a frown she’s too surprised to hide.

“Now, Lena. Where on Earth would you get that idea?”

x

Weekends are a foreign concept to Lena, mostly because she’s found working to be much more relaxing than spending extended amounts of time alone. But when Kara called and suggested they spend the morning together (refusing to say what that time together would entail), Lena had put away her heels and changed into something more comfortable for an outing.

She’s glad she opted for jeans and sneakers, because she’s frankly quite sure she’s never walked so much in her entire life—the second Kara sees her, she shoves a cup of coffee into her hands in greeting before grabbing her by the elbow and tugging her down the street, not listening to any protests and certainly not slowing down.

Kara’s Saturday morning plans involve a highly detailed tour of National City—with special stops at her favorite place to get coffee, favorite place for pastries, favorite place for Chinese, and more (and if Kara is peckish at more than one of those stops, if she eats two sticky buns and then has a slice of pie with hot chocolate, Lena more marvels at how enthusiastic Kara gets about food than about how much she can put away)—and a visit to her favorite park, which she claims she used to escape to whenever she wants to think. 

It’s at the park that Lena finally manages to convince Kara to take a break, and they sit on one of the benches together, shoulders brushing, Kara looking comically small in her large coat, and Lena just glad the weather has cooperated with them so far. She chances a look at Kara, feeling uncertain if Kara has enjoyed the morning as much as she has when she catches the hint of a frown at the corners of Kara’s lips.

“Are you all right?” she asks, because that’s what friends do.

(Right? She’s never actually had a friend before. She doesn’t know the protocol.)

“Yeah, _yeah_ ,” Kara repeats when Lena just stares at her with one eyebrow raised. “I just…you ever feel like you’re responsible for someone who just isn’t worth the effort?”

“If you mean me, I—”

“Oh no! No, no, no, _no._ Of course not, you’re great.” Kara’s cheeks are bright red and her eyes are wide, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose and going utterly forgotten. “It’s this guy. Mike.”

“Is Mike a friend?” She feels a hint of… _something…_ at the very base of her throat. It’s acidic and it’s stabbing and it makes her feel cold from head to toe. But she ignores that feeling as best she can to focus on Kara and the way she hasn’t stopped gnawing on her bottom lip since they sat down. 

“No,” Kara mumbles, shaking her head. “He’s…a symbol.” Her head snaps towards Lena’s and her hand grips Lena’s sleeve as she finally finds the words she’s looking for. “Of opportunity! He’s a chance to do something I didn’t do before, something I wasn’t ready to do.”

“Do you like him?” Lena asks, carefully tugging her arm away, not sure why the words come out sounding like she’s speaking around a mouthful of nails. (Except she is sure, she knows exactly why, and she isn’t very fond of the thudding of her heart and the waver in her voice.)

“I don’t understand.”

“Well you sound like you’re about to enter a serious relationship with Mike.”

Kara’s entire expression shifts—she goes from contemplative to grossed out in the matter of seconds, and Lena’s never been more relieved in her entire life.

“Ugh, I am _not_ —no. No, _no_ , I’m not interested in Mo— _Mike_ that way _at all_ ,” she says, shaking her head repeatedly, one hand waving in front of her face, the other adjusting her glasses. “He’s fine, I suppose. But he’s also…clueless.” She sighs at the word, looking vaguely guilty. “I don’t know what it’s like to have a younger sibling, but I imagine he fits the bill.”

“Okay…” Lena says, waiting for more. “So what’s wrong with this Mike?”

“How do you get someone to care?” Kara asks, not looking like she heard Lena’s question at all. “How do you show someone that there’re things more important than just what you want?”

“I don’t know, I’d imagine if we could teach selflessness, the world would have a lot less problems.”

“That’s just it, I’m not asking him to be selfless, I just want something—I mean, _anything_ —to matter to him.” Her nose scrunches up a little. “But he likes spending his days drinking and flirting with women.” She turns to Lena angrily, her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed. “You know he doesn’t even know most of their names? It’s just—he’s just…ah! It’s infuriating.”

Without really thinking about it, Lena reaches out and places her hand on Kara’s forearm, releasing her immediately when she notices Kara’s wide eyes and strange expression.

“Maybe,” she says, clearing her throat and hoping her cheeks and ears aren’t noticeably pink despite the heat rushing through her face, “he needs time. Maybe he just hasn’t had the chance to figure out what matters to him yet.”

Kara leans heavily against Lena, letting out a sigh. “Why does everyone keep advising me to be patient? I don’t like it,” she mutters under her breath, unable to help her smile when Lena lets out an indelicate snort.

x

She finds out about the robbers using alien technology—and Supergirl’s trouble with catching them—purely on accident.

She’s in a meeting with her executive vice president, trying her best not to snap at him as he stresses the need for using their ‘trump card.’ Fixing their public image was the first part, he tells her carefully, clearly suggesting that her public image is far from ‘fixed.’ She needs a plan to rebuild L-Corp.

(He wants her to begin production of the alien detection device—it’s been weeks, she no longer really has any reason to delay…except for the lingering doubts in the back of her head, a voice that sounds like Kara warning her that the device would lead her down the same path as Lex, that even if she personally had no issue with aliens, she would be giving those who did the very tools they needed to act on their hate and fear.

Her adoptive father had once told her that there was no concept of ‘morality’ in business. “You have to do what you have to do to succeed,” he’d say, looking over at her and waiting for a nod before he returned to his work—most of which consisted of if not outright illegal activities then certainly rather shady ones.

Now, with board members and her own mother breathing down her neck, Lena wonders if she’s really willing to cross this line—if she’s willing, essentially, to cross her own Rubicon.) 

She’s spared having to think of a way to delay the meeting for another day (giving herself just a little more time to think of something she can use in the detection device’s place) when Jess interrupts her meeting with news that several L-Corp owned laboratories had been damaged in the crossfire between Supergirl and the robbers.

And well, Lena’s not above taking advantage of distractions when they come.

She instructs Jess to begin preparing for a gala—specifies that she wants it to be as extravagant as possible—then tells her to clear the rest of her schedule for the day. An hour later, she’s at CatCo, searching for Kara among the multitudes of workers, surprised when everyone—from reporters to assistants to a gangly intern with a coffee stain on their shirt—seems to know and love Kara, easily able to help Lena locate her.

(When she’s finally facing Kara, her first thought is, _she’s beautiful_. Her second thought is about the young man standing next to the reporter and it’s far less flattering.)

“Lena!” Kara says, smiling so wide Lena forgets momentarily why she’s even here. “I didn’t realize you left your office during the day,” she teases, nudging Lena’s shoulder a little, motioning for her to follow as Kara leads them to an empty office—ostensibly for privacy, though the young man seems to feel following them is appropriate. “Um, this is Mike,” Kara mumbles, playing with her glasses as she closes the door to the office, her brows furrowing as she looks up at _Mike_. “It’s his first day here.”

“It’s fantastic to meet you,” Mike says, smiling wide. “Shall we exchange identification numbers for future refere—”

“— _no_ , that’s not what it’s for, remember?” Kara hisses, glaring at him. He nods quickly, taking a small step back and leaning against the far wall.

“So what’s the number that the helpful young woman—”

“—that was her _phone_ number, Mike,” Kara says, looking uncomfortable as she chances a look at Lena. “Mike. Ha, he’s such a joker! Ha!”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Lena says, nodding over to Mike, unable to help the slight coldness to her tone. It’s not like she doesn’t like him (though she certainly doesn’t appreciate the way he smiles at Kara), she just doesn’t know how to be instantly comfortable with strangers like Kara. And when she invites him to the gala along with Kara—not _willingly_ but she doesn’t want to be rude, especially after Kara explained she wanted to help him find his calling—she takes a little bit of comfort in the fact that Kara seems just as unenthused by his presence as Lena feels.

(It shouldn’t make her feel warm, shouldn’t make her smile, but it does and she begins to wonder if she should be worried.)

x

As a child, newly adopted, Lena hadn’t realized that Lillian’s treatment of her was any different from any other mother. She’d imagined everyone was distant with the woman who raised them, everyone felt a bristle of cold with every word exchanged.

It wasn’t until she was around ten that the unnaturalness of her relationship with the Luthors became clear. She sat with all her classmates, listening to her name being called for award after award—“Ten and already a Luthor genius,” Lionel would later say, shuffling her hair—and looking out into the crowd of parents and family members and seeing that only Lex, face dotted with pimples and smelling of the cigarettes he hid religiously from their mother, had bothered to attend the ceremony.

“You’re _ten_ ,” Lillian later scoffed. “Who throws award ceremonies for _children_? It’s an absolute waste of time.”

(That was when Lena began creating fanciful tales about her birth parents, how they were out there, searching for her, that one day she’d have a mother who loved her—who cared about her interests and passions, who would come to her recitals and sports games.

As the years passed, as she grew older, Lena imagined perfect parents less, and instead vindictively hoped that she was the result of Lionel’s indiscretions, that whenever Lillian looked at her she felt the stabbing pain of betrayal and dislike. It was easier to deal with Lillian’s hate when Lena imagined she was a product—salt added to the wound by how Lionel favored her over Lex—of a faithless husband.)

The unnaturalness, however, of her relationship with her parents had its advantages. From early on—before she was sent off to boarding school—she learned to be self-reliant, to trust no one, to be herself only around Lex (around the brother she adored and looked up to, the brother who’d always had her back).

And she just doesn’t know where it all went wrong.

Lena Luthor is having a bad day.

Shockingly, it has nothing to do with the lack of coffee, unexpected visits, or temperamental investors. In fact, Lena can’t trace the overall _grayness_ that hangs above her head to any one event or interaction.

(She supposes, really, that it’s because she’s determinedly not thinking about it. Because if she thinks about it—even for a moment—she’s afraid her perfectly crafted walls will come crashing down. After all, it is a well known fact that Lena Luthor does not do jealousy well—in fact, she doesn’t do _jealous_. She is a _Luthor_. From the day she was adopted, the odd family dynamics of the Luthors taught her to hold her feelings on the inside, to never allow anyone to notice her vulnerabilities, to be an impenetrable wall in the face of all enemies—and the fact that everyone _but_ a Luthor is her enemy goes unsaid, a tacit sort of conclusion that she thought she’d die by until the day Lex went after _her_ life.

Yet, beyond being a Luthor, Lena is also intolerably _afraid_. It’s not something she advertises—something that ever shows on her face or in her mannerisms—but it remains a truth. She is afraid, afraid of being left alone, of being left behind, of being deemed unworthy or unnecessary. And this is not something she wants to dwell on.)

Coffee in hand, day remarkably clear of family members, her board members quieted by the promise of a new plan involving the alien detection device, and yet Lena feels _off_.

(She thinks back to the moment she entered Kara’s apartment to see the young woman with her, thinks back to the moment when jealousy flared and it became abundantly clear that whatever feelings she’s been fostering for Kara have evolved into something more…substantial, more _pressing_. And she worries. She worries because she’s spent so much of her life convincing herself that she needs no one as everyone eventually leaves anyway, and when she imagines the same inevitable result with Kara it hurts.

It hurts and Lena intuitively knows that that is _not_ a good thing.)

She looks down when she feels Judge brush against her ankles, pressing himself closer and purring until Lena caves and picks him up, scratching beneath his jaw and petting him. She feels her irritation and uneasiness fade as Judge continues to purr. “You’re never going to leave me, are you?” she asks him softly. His only response is to press his head against her hand and Lena finds herself smiling despite everything.

x

It’s not until after the gala that she first begins to suspect her only friend in National City.

Now, Lena is not stupid. She’s terribly busy, somewhat distracted, and a little bit inclined to give this one person she’s found herself growing so close to the benefit of the doubt, but she isn’t _blind_. It’s not like she misses the fact that Supergirl and Kara have the same eye color, that they have the same smile, that sometimes—when Kara is feeling threatened or passionate, like when they first discussed the alien detection device—her back straightens and her eyes grow steely and she transforms before Lena’s eyes, looking every bit a hero.

Suddenly—as Lena thanks Supergirl for her help, as she mentions how surreal it is that a Luthor and a Super are working together—all the signs that went ignored before become quite clear, a suspicion she’s nurtured unconsciously coming to the forefront of her mind: Kara and Supergirl are one and the same.

Of course, she has no proof and confronting Kara about it is unthinkable. After all, Lena’s not even sure how _she_ feels about knowing Kara’s secret—she truly doesn’t want to find out if her relationship with the reporter/Super would change if that secret were out in the open.

And even worse, what if Lena is wrong? What if Kara actually _knows_ Supergirl and that’s why getting her as a source is so easy? What if the rushing about, the mumbling, the _flew here on a bus_ is all a series of misunderstandings and coincidences (even if Lena is terribly skeptical of anything reduced to a _coincidence_ )?

What if Lena’s so used to people leaving that she’s actively creating connections that aren’t there, all in an attempt to prepare herself for what she considers an inevitability? After all, wouldn’t it hurt less in the long run if she’d built walls and guards before Kara turned her back?

She watches as Supergirl bends and gently pets an unruffled Judge—a Judge who has shown himself to be picky, only allowing Kara’s touch besides Lena’s—before flying off, and leaving Lena standing in her office, hoping for the first time for a coincidence.

x

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Kara asks as she hands Lena a handful of forks and napkins, gesturing towards the table. Her eyes aren’t on Lena, but on Alex (the _sister_ , Lena reminds herself forcefully, feeling her cheeks heat up when she remembers her embarrassing flood of jealousy). For the most part, Alex seems perfectly fine, but Lena’s also sure that the elder Danvers sister is on her third glass of wine, something about her expression mildly panicked.

“Of course,” Lena says with a smile, wondering if she’ll be asked to talk to Alex. She hopes not; frankly, she’s rather sure the next person who speaks to Alex will have their head bitten off if James and Winn’s expressions are anything to go by.

“Why don’t you spend Thanksgiving with your mother?”

“That’s…that _is_ personal,” Lena says, trying not to let her expression change. She doesn’t think it works because when Kara turns to look at her, a worried crease appears between her eyebrows, something about the way she shifts—from the set of her shoulders to the arch of her neck—seeming absolutely protective. Lena just doesn’t know why Kara would feel that way.

“You don’t have to answer, it was a dumb question, I—”

“—we don’t see eye to eye, Kara,” Lena interrupts, placing the forks and the napkins on the table, unable to help folding and unfolding one of the napkins in an effort to keep her eyes off Kara, scared of what she might see. “I’ve always been somewhat of a disappointment to her.” It’s the understatement of the year, but Kara doesn’t question it and Lena forges on, pretending as if she hasn’t just divulged something big. “It’s usually for the best that we spend as little time as possible together. Family is difficult.”

“I understand,” Kara says, something about her tone making Lena feel as if she actually does understand. She doesn’t know how that would be possible—from everything she’s seen, Kara’s family is absolutely lovely. Eliza is kind and gentle, her eyes crinkling as she takes in her daughters, and Alex is slightly tipsy but her love for Kara is obvious in every single interaction. How could a family with so much love be _difficult_? “But sometimes family is the people you choose to be in your life,” Kara continues, reaching out and squeezing Lena’s hand, making Lena drop the napkin and look up. “I’m really glad you came tonight. Even if it gets awkward. And it _will_ get awkward.” From behind them Eliza laughs at something Mike has said, Alex paces in front of the couch, and James and Winn look terribly uncomfortable. It’s an odd hodgepodge of people, but Kara’s words make sense.

After all, amidst it all, even if it gets awkward or tense, Lena has no doubt that at the end of the night, everyone in this room is family and they’d do anything for one another.

(And though she knows she shouldn’t, she wonders where she fits into all this.)

x

Judge raises his head, looking alert, prompting Lena to turn around just as Supergirl lands on her balcony, her expression masked by the flickering lights of the city casting shadows over her face. Uncharacteristically, she doesn’t just barge in—perhaps because she learned her lesson the last time she just walked in, perhaps because the memory rankles at her the same way it frustrates Lena—but rather waits until Lena lets out a sigh and waves her in. She seems tense in a way Lena’s not familiar with. It’s not like when she came by to accuse Lillian, when she was hard and full of righteous fury.

Mostly, she just seems…tired.

“Miss Luthor,” Supergirl says in greeting, her eyes on Judge rather than Lena. “It’s a little late to still be working, don’t you think?”

“I could say the same of you, Supergirl.”

(She wants to say _Kara_. She wants to see what reaction that would elicit, she wants to know if her hunch is right. But if the past day’s events have taught her anything it’s that she’s right to be wary about her only friend in National City, right to think she would be left behind.

After all, Supergirl had been rather quick to see her as nothing but a Luthor. What’s to say Kara wouldn’t react the same way?)

“I—” She stops, stoops down to pick up Judge, a soft smile appearing on her face, and then turns to look at Lena. “A friend of mine needs help. I thought I’d come by and see you before I left.”

“To make sure I’m not planning anything nefarious for National City in your absence? That I’m not following my mother or brother’s footsteps?” It’s petty, the words barbed and intended to hurt, and she figures she’s been successful when Supergirl drops her gaze.

“To thank you, actually,” she says, her smile reappearing when Judge nuzzles against her. Not for the first time, Lena scowls at her traitor of a cat. She rather expects her pet to have her back, for them to present a united front. She’s not quite sure how to feel about how comfortable he is with Supergirl and Kara. “You saved a lot of lives last night.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“But you did,” Supergirl insists. “I wish—I can understand why you didn’t trust me, why you didn’t tell me what you were planning—” Lena internally winces, realizing now that perhaps it would’ve been easier to somehow warn Supergirl beforehand, let her know that the aliens of National City were safe. She supposes she’s just so used to working alone, it didn’t even occur to her to tell anyone about her plans. And then there was the most important factor of all: would Supergirl have even believed her, especially after Lena had refused to accept what Supergirl had said about Lillian? “—I owe you a great deal. The alien population owes you a great deal.”

“I did what was right,” Lena says coolly. “I don’t want your gratitude for that.”

“But you have it anyway.” She pauses and allows Judge to jump from her arms, not adopting her normal stance. Rather than placing her hands on her hips, rather than crossing her arms over her chest, drawing attention to the symbol on her suit, she rocks back onto her heels, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what matters to me lately,” she says, a crease—terribly similar to the one Kara has—appearing between her brows, “about what I stand for and what I’m meant to do. I’ve been thinking a lot about legacy.”

“If you want to talk about the Luthor legacy—”

“—I want to talk about how you’ve inspired me,” Supergirl interrupts. “You represent something beyond your last name and this company. And your actions…you forged your own path forward, showed that family and past doesn’t reflect who people are.” She becomes soft, her head tilted slightly to the side, her stance and expression open. “You _are_ good and smart, Lena Luthor. And you’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“It’s funny,” Supergirl says, walking towards the still open balcony door. “Between the Alien Amnesty Act and your detection device, I thought I would have to choose. I thought it was protect the humans and continue to be accepted or protect aliens like me and be shunned. But I think it’s time I forged my own path, one separate from my family.” She smiles then, and that’s the moment that Lena is finally sure, the moment Lena is _certain_ that Kara and Supergirl are one and the same.

She’s seen that shy, demure smile far too many times on Kara’s lips not to recognize it anywhere, even on the face of a superhero.

“Will I—” She stops, changing her direction entirely. “How long will you be gone?”

Supergirl shrugs, Kara somehow shining through more brilliantly than ever (perhaps because Lena now knows where to look, like in in the tap of her finger, in the tilt of her head, in the blue of her eyes).

“Don’t worry, Lena,” Supergirl— _Kara_ —says. “I’m always around.”

x

She watches her executive vice president leave her office with a little bit of trepidation. He hadn’t seemed terribly averse to the idea, but it’s a far cry from what she promised when she first came up with the device. Jess remains behind, inching away from Judge, who keeps attempting to coax her into petting him, and stares hard at Lena.

“Are you sure about this, Miss Luthor? Changing L-Corp’s direction is one thing, actively choosing a side is another.”

“I’m not choosing a side, I’m deciding to make us a non-factor.”

“Is this because of the reporter? The one who was against the device in the first place?” When Lena shoots Jess a look, she blushes. “Her voice carries, I’m sorry.”

“No, this has nothing to do with Kara. Besides, the board hasn’t thrown a fit yet, and most of the investors who supported Lex’s…controversial…ideas have long since abandoned ship. This is a good plan, the right thing to do.” She stands, unable to help clenching and unclenching her hand into a fist, worry gnawing away at her. Her company _isn’t_ in danger with this decision, but doing this so soon after getting her own mother arrested is certain to place her in the line of fire.

She finds herself hoping Kara meant it when she said she’s always around.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: I liked season one James and I wish we could've kept him

James’ behavior becomes so bizarre that Kara doesn’t even know if she can continue to ignore it.

He’s rarely in his office, and if he is, he’s actually napping, head pillowed by his arms, empty coffee cups and papers piling on his desk. On more than one occasion, Kara’s seen him on the phone out on the balcony Ms. Grant was so fond of, his hands waving wildly, going silent the second he notices her, and offering a weak wave and a faint gesticulation to his ears (as if wordlessly asking her to focus her superhearing somewhere else). 

She wants to confront him about it. She wants to grab him by the shoulders, sit him down, and force him to talk. (She doesn’t like the distance that’s sprung up between them since she decided she didn’t want to pursue a relationship with him, doesn’t like the way that it sometimes feels as if she’s lost her friend—sometimes going days without seeing him at all, even longer without speaking.)

She wants James back, but she doesn’t know how to go about it.

(It feels _awkward_ with him. Like he’s actively not telling her something, like there are words at the tip of his tongue that he’s incapable of pushing past his lips. It’s awkward, the way his eyes are sad when he looks at her, the way his shoulders slump when he thinks she’s not looking.

It’s awkward and Kara _hates_ it.)

She clenches her hands into fists when she walks by Cat Grant’s old office only to see James leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, and without bothering to say a word to his secretary, she stomps into the office, officially fed up.

“All right James, enough is—”

“Kara, what’re you—”

“—Kara?” Winn asks, stepping into the office as well, eyes wide and confused, some significant look passing between him and James, culminating in the slightest of headshakes from James. “How—how’s it going, Kara?” Winn asks weakly.

“What’re you doing here?” she demands, narrowing her eyes at him, stepping forward. Winn giggles—actually _giggles_ —and takes several steps back, hands raised in surrender.

“You know, IT stuff for the, uh, boss?”

“Are you asking or telling me, Winn?” Kara asks, watching as James gets out of his chair and approaches them, his expression worried. There are bags under his eyes, and he looks a lot thinner than usual, as if he hasn’t been eating and sleeping well. “James? Are you—”

“—Danvers! There you are! First you take time off for an unspecified ‘family matter’ and now you’re wasting time here?” Carr says, entering James’ office as well, ignoring the secretary’s weak protests. “Thought you wanted to be a reporter.”

“I do, I mean. I am. I mean—do you have an assignment?”

“L-Corp wants to expand on their statement about the alien detection device. They’re willing to do an interview with CatCo,” here Carr pauses, his eyes narrowing, “but only with _you_.”

“I guess those puff pieces weren’t a waste after all,” James says with a grin, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at Carr almost…smugly. And for the first time in weeks, he’s the James Kara knows, the one she recognizes and cares about. She’s just about to say something—to point it out and explain how _glad_ she is to have James back—when Carr lets out a heavy sigh, mumbling something about needing more than coffee to deal with this.

“Look, Danvers, I don’t really care about your relationship with Luthor,” he says, sounding like he cares quite a bit. Kara fiddles with her glasses as she thinks about the articles Clark sent her (as a joke, she thinks—she _hopes_ ) about Carr’s distaste for the Luthor family. She doesn’t really like the way he stresses the word ‘relationship’ and ‘Luthor,’ and judging by the frown on James’ face, neither does he. “But you showed good instincts to maintain contact with such a valuable source,” Carr continues, his voice gruff, as if he can’t quite believe he’s admitting such a thing. “Now go take advantage of it and interview Lena Luthor.” When she doesn’t immediately move, Carr nearly rolls his eyes as he shakes his head. “Now, Danvers,” he orders, looking at James as if daring him to argue.

When James just shrugs, looking tired once more, Kara lets out a sigh and leaves the office without another word.

x

When Jess lets Kara into Lena’s office, Lena’s looking out the tall glass windows, biting her lip and occasionally rubbing Judge beneath the chin every time he knocks his head into her hand, seeking attention. She looks lost in thought and Kara finds she doesn’t want to interrupt. 

“Miss Luthor,” Jess says loudly, apparently not at all sharing Kara’s reluctance, “Miss Danvers is here for you.”

Lena blinks several times in quick succession, breaking out of whatever reverie she’d been in, and she turns towards them, a smile already on her face.

“Kara,” she greets, a little more warmly than usual, “what a surprise.”

It’s bullshit, obviously. She was absolutely the one who told Jess that she’d only do the interview with Kara, so all her pretending was only for effect…almost as if—

“All right, spill,” Kara asks the second Jess closes the door behind her, stalking over to the chair across from Lena’s desk and throwing herself on it, letting her purse fall haphazardly to the floor. “What’s going on? What’re you planning?”

“I have no _idea_ what you mean.”

“I don’t come see you for a week and you decide to turn the entire city upside down,” Kara mutters, shaking her head and pulling out her notebook. When she looks back up, Lena’s giving her a strange look—a cross between amusement and interest…and was that a little bit of, well, _excitement_?

“You were busy, I’m sure,” she says, head tilted to the side, eyes locked on Kara’s—almost unnervingly, really. “What with saving the world,” she pauses to smile and wave her hand, looking away briefly enough that she misses Kara’s wide eyes, “one article at a time.”

“Right,” Kara says through a cough that she hopes hides the panic creeping into her voice, “that’s me. Writing articles. As normal reporters do.”

Lena smiles, unperturbed by Kara’s babbling.

“Anyway, I’m glad you’re back. There’s no one else I could trust with getting this story out.”

“Right. L-Corp’s recent…I think the _Daily Planet_ called it ‘A Change of Hearts,’ though I have to admit, the article was pretty cheesy.” She doesn’t say that she called Clark to tell him just that, she doesn’t admit that sometimes she thinks about Clark’s subtle digs at Lena and it makes her _angry_. She doesn’t even think about how she’s been itching to write some sort of rebuttal.

 _A Change of Hearts_ …pfft. There is no comparing Lena to her brother, not at all. The suggestion that Lena is anything less than extraordinary—anything less than kind and compassionate—rankles at Kara, in a way with which she isn’t quite familiar. She’s felt protective before, but it’s never felt so… _personal_.

“Actually, I sort of liked the article,” Lena says quietly, and she gestures towards the corner of her desk, where a copy of the paper actually rests, opened to Clark’s article, an old photograph of Lex and Lena standing together adorning the bottom half of the page. “You humanized me. But Mr. Kent…well, he made sure that people knew I’m still a Luthor, even if I’m a half decent one.”

“Half decent?” Kara snorts, rolling her eyes. “You’re a lot more than half anything, Lena.” She says it without thinking and she sort of regrets it because Lena’s looking at her strangely again, the corner of her lips tugging upwards, almost without her consent—as if she knows something, as if the comment means more than what Kara intended, and that’s something Kara didn’t realize one could actually fear.

(But she sort of doesn’t regret it either because the sight of that tiny smile and those knowing eyes makes heat pool in her chest, the warmth cascading out to her fingertips and toes, a gentle thrumming taking place in her veins and—

Well, _oh_. That’s new.)

“Are you going to ask?” Lena says suddenly, interrupting Kara’s realizations, flustering her enough with nothing more than a raised eyebrow that Kara actually has to look down and away, preferring to watch Judge play with some sort of toy between his paws. She hadn’t even noticed that he’d jumped out of Lena’s lap, and he looks so…intent, so focused and ready and it makes Kara smile. One of the best things about Earth, she thinks, is the sheer number of animals one can keep as a pet—sometimes it feels like an endless amount, and Kara loves them all. “Kara?”

“Why did you keep him?”

“Excuse me?”

“Judge. You said he just followed you home one day. Why keep him?” This isn’t what she came here for—Carr specifically wanted the story about L-Corp’s new stance. But in all honesty…well, Kara wants to avoid talk of aliens and technology and xenophobia as long as she can. She wants to bask in Lena’s smile, in the warmth pooling in her chest…and _oh_. This is much more serious than she first thought.

“I would hate to have a PR incident on my hands. Can you imagine the headlines? _Lena Luthor Murders Innocent Kitten Through Starvation_. It’d be all over Twitter.”

It’s a lie. She doesn’t need the joke or the slight sarcasm to know. Kara can tell just by the way Lena looks over at Judge with a fond smile—she doesn’t even need the uptick in Lena’s heart rate or the subtle readjustment of her watch (something Kara’s found to be one of Lena’s tells). It’s a lie and Kara doesn’t really understand why Lena would feel that this of all things is what she should keep close to the chest.

“So,” Kara begins, sighing heavily and placing the tip of her pen on her notepad, ready to write, “I suppose I _should_ ask. L-Corp’s new statement: what’s going on?”

“I’ve decided to make the name Luthor and L-Corp itself a non-factor in the…well, in the _heated_ debates on alien amnesty.”

“Heated is one way to describe it. Though I think I’d just go with angry. And violent.”

Lena nods, looking terribly concerned for a moment before her expression clears.

“I hear Supergirl has maintained the peace in the more, well, _earnest_ protests.” She looks pleased at her choice of words and Kara can’t bring herself to correct her. The protests have been nothing short of exhausting, full of hate and vitriol she’s not entirely sure how to counter. It was one thing when the city hated _her_ , it’s quite another when their focus is on a variety of species as a whole. Not for the first time, she wishes she had Cat Grant’s calm and collected input, not for the first time, she wishes she could drag Winn and James into their makeshift headquarters within CatCo and plan out some sort of defense to what is, essentially, a war of ideals.

“She has,” Kara nods slowly, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “It’s just…it seems like the issue is tearing the city into two. How long can she hold things together?”

(Things have gotten worse since Lillian’s arrest, the most ardent of her supporters packing the streets with signs and bullhorns, some of them even calling for the end of Supergirl. And wondering how long things would remain calm isn’t a worry Kara has expressed aloud before. It’s too hard to talk to James and Winn, Mon-El wouldn’t even care—perfectly comfortable in his ability to pass as a human—and she doesn’t want to worry Alex.

But since getting back from Barry’s world, Kara hasn’t been able to sleep.)

“Then perhaps my timing is perfect,” Lena says, her concern returning. Her brows are furrowed, the small smile on her lips has faded, and there’s a certain _fear_ in her eyes that Kara has only seen once before—when Hank Henshaw threw Supergirl into the L-Corp sign, knocking the wind clear out of her. “I thought a lot about what you said, Kara,” she continues, not giving Kara the chance to dissect and understand the look, “when you said that my detection device would give people the opportunity to act on their fear, ignorance, and hate. And I thought that it didn’t matter how people used a product because I’m a businesswoman—it was _selling_ the product that was important.” She bites her lip, eyes falling towards Judge, and inexplicably she smiles. He’s licking his paws clean and Lena is smiling and Kara has never felt like she was missing something more than in this moment. “But I’m not my father or my brother, and it matters to me how my products are being used. Which is why the detection device will not be sold to the public—in fact, it won’t go into production at all. Instead, the patent and all the rights to the device have been sold to a rather shadowy government organization called the DEO.” When she looks back over at Kara, there’s a brilliant and knowing grin on her face, and Kara’s heart hammers away against her ribs, and for the first time she’s glad that no one is quite like her—it means no one hears that catch in her breath, that pounding of her heart.

And it’s just that—

Well.

All of… _this_ …is uncharted territory for Kara. With James—with James she’d always known how she felt, was always so sure. James was charming and kind and passionate and driven and just so _good_ , and she’d fallen for the deep rumble of his voice and the gleam in his eyes when he’d tell her that there was more to being a hero than just flying around. She loved him (and loves him still) for his gentle nature, his connection to Clark, the safety she felt in his gaze—an anchor of sorts, keeping her grounded and still when nothing in her life made sense, making her feel that not being normal was…normal.

With Lena, however, it’s…different. Lena is patience and understanding—the sadness in her eyes sometimes mirroring Kara’s, the heaviness to her step exposing the weight on her shoulders, and that smile, fixed and affected as it is, belies the warmth and compassion in Lena’s every action. Where James was simple and so _easy_ , Lena feels like a contradiction and a half and sometimes—when Lena’s defenses are down or when Kara’s been paying special attention—it feels as though if she just managed to understand that glint in Lena’s eyes she’d be privy to all her secrets. 

And this moment, with Lena grinning widely, so terribly proud of the decision she’s made—so sure it would also make Kara happy—just adds to the ever-building pressure in Kara’s chest. Because it’s thoughtful and decent and proves just how much Lena cares, just how much she _listens_ when other people express their feelings, and more than anything it’s yet another example that Clark’s stupid article is _wrong_. After all, Lena taking over LuthorCorp and turning it into her own company isn’t a change of heart, it’s _bringing_ heart to a place that never had one at all.

“So what do you think?” Lena asks, leaning back in her chair and studying Kara with some amusement. Kara blinks at her and finds herself letting out a strangled laugh.

“What do I think? I think…I mean…it’s amazing. You’re amazing.” She clears her throat uncomfortably and shifts in her chair. “What I mean is that this is a big scoop. And I—gosh, thank you.”

“What can I say, Kara?” Lena shrugs. “You bring out the _hero_ in me.”

x

Unfortunately for both Lena and Kara—though perhaps more so for Lena—the article and all its implications is quickly overshadowed by Lillian’s escape and the subsequent news that follows, that somehow _Lena_ had orchestrated the entire thing.

And long after it’s all put to rest, long after Kara visited Lena, long after she went back to CatCo to collect the flowers that filled her office to take them home, and long after tossing and turning in bed, Kara finds herself unable to push her feelings away any longer.

And Kara, for the most part, is the bigger person. She is. She’s had to be, honestly. When she was picked on in school for being so strange and different—for sometimes being condescending because _Rao_ Earth was _so_ behind in mathematics and science—she had to let it go, never react, remain calm.

Of course, what might have applied to bullies in high school most certainly doesn’t apply to her older sister.

“Alex,” Kara knocks again, dropping her forehead heavily on the wooden door, letting out a groan. “Open the door or I’ll come in like last time.” She hears an equally frustrated groan from the other side of the door and suddenly it opens, revealing a very tired Alex Danvers.

“Are you still punishing me for the joke on Thanksgiving? I already apologized for that, okay? Let me sleep.”

“You never apologized.”

“I said ‘ugh, bad joke’ what did you think that meant?”

“That you thought it was a bad joke,” Kara says, closing the door behind her and heading straight for Alex’s kitchen, opening up the fridge and grimacing at the lack of ice cream choices. “What you should apologize for is how empty your fridge is every time I come over.”

“I didn’t know my alien sister would drop by at,” she checks her phone, “three in the morning for ice cream. Sorry, next time I’ll try harder.”

“We have to talk.”

“ _Kara_ ,” Alex begs, “please can’t it wait till morning?” She steps forward and shuts the fridge, leaning against it and taking Kara’s hands in her own. “Unlike you, I _need_ sleep.”

“Why don’t you trust her?” Kara asks, ignoring the way Alex’s eyes have drooped, ignoring that her sister has shuffled over to the coffeemaker, apparently finally convinced that this wouldn’t be a short visit. Rather than responding, Alex frowns and scratches at her chin, actually having the gall to look confused—as if there’s some other woman out there that she refuses to trust and thereby upsetting Kara.

“Who are we talking about?”

“ _Alex_.”

The stress on her name is enough to make Alex sigh and turn away from the coffeemaker as soon as the whirring of the machine starts (once upon a time, that sound invariably put Kara’s teeth on edge, making her want to place her hands over her ears and hide—now it’s familiar and feels a little bit like a normalcy she’s always craved). She leans against her kitchen counter, arms crossed as she studies Kara’s expression for a moment—like she’s thinking about what to say—and then she lets out another sigh.

“I know she’s your friend,” she begins slowly, as if trying to _placate_ her and Kara stiffens, “but Lena—”

“—if you’re trying to say she’s a Luthor or that her family is trouble, don’t bother,” Kara says, chin rising. She’s Kara Danvers at this moment—dressed in her normal clothing, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose—but she’s also some sort of amalgamation of Kara Zor-El and Supergirl: regal, proud…alien. “You can’t judge her on what her family has done. Or did you forget my mother allowed Krypton to die, that my father created the Medusa virus? If you’re going to judge her for her family, then judge me, too.”

“You’re _my_ family,” Alex says, completely awake now. “And that’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say she’s your friend, but I just don’t know her. And Kara you have a tendency to…”

“To what?”

“To let your feelings do the thinking,” Alex huffs out, turning around and pouring herself a cup of coffee, barely acknowledging Kara’s nod before pouring her a cup as well. She waits until Kara has taken a grudging sip before smiling slightly at her irritability—annoyingly amused in a way only older siblings can be—and shrugging. “I love that about you, Kara. I love that you trust people, that you give everyone a chance, that you dive into your feelings headfirst. But you need someone at your back in case something goes wrong.” She studies Kara’s face for a moment, then reaches out and takes her hand, and Kara forgets her anger, forgets why she came here in the middle of the night. All she knows is that her sister is looking at her like she knows something Kara doesn’t and the very thought—much like it had in Lena’s office, during their interview—terrifies her.

She doesn’t like _not knowing_ …it feels—it feels _wrong_.

“So you’re protecting me?” Kara asks, not really expecting an answer and surprised when Alex nods.

“Always, Kara.”

She wants to ask what Alex is protecting her from. She wants to ask if Alex thinks her friendship with Lena will go wrong. She wants to ask if Alex will ever be willing to give Lena a chance. But in the dim kitchen light, the apartment filled with the scent of fresh coffee, Alex finally shaking off the last vestiges of sleep with her smile, Kara realizes she already has her answers:

Alex’s problem isn’t with Lena at all—what Alex is protecting her from this time is herself.

x

She’s at the DEO when she hears about the news.

Winn is attempting to help somewhat alleviate her boredom by practicing Kryptonian phrases with her, becoming increasingly frustrated as she corrects him again and again, not quite appreciating her comment about how the human mouth likely just wasn’t _capable_ of creating the sounds needed for her home planet’s language. But Winn is adamant, rolling his eyes and claiming he learned an alien computer code _thank you very much_ , that learning to speak a new language is nothing in comparison. When she corrects him once more—“No, there’s a click of the tongue, stop flattening the sound so much against the roof of your mouth”—he sighs and claims he needs a break. But just as he gets up to grab coffee (or more likely take a shot from Alex’s not-so-secret liquor stash) the alarms go off, the screens above Winn’s desk lighting up with images from L-Corp’s lobby.

“What’s going on?” Winn mumbles, typing something in, but Kara doesn’t stop to listen. Before Winn can protest—before he can bring up J’onn or Alex or protocol—Kara’s shooting out of the DEO and speeding towards L-Corp.

(She’s not panicking of course. She’s calm and collected and she’s sure that Lena is fine, that nothing’s happened to her, that this is likely some sort of silly disgruntled employee attempting to give Lena some bad PR.

She’s not thinking that Lena’s mother is on the loose, that Cadmus has threatened Lena _twice_ now since L-Corp pulled the alien detection device, that Lena has one to many brushes with death and that it’ll just take one second—one stupid mistake—for Kara to lose her forever.)

She slams onto the concrete outside L-Corp’s lobby with far more impact than she intends, cracks appearing around her feet and hand where she reached out to steady herself, and she makes a mental note to apologize to both Lena and Alex. She’s just about to scan the building and locate the problem when the lobby doors fly open and she sees someone walking out with their back facing her…it takes her a second to recognize the short hair and proud stance, takes her a moment to comprehend that it’s _Mon-El_ who’s backing out of the lobby, his arms wrapped around something.

It takes her no time at all to locate Lena’s elevated heart rate, hear her labored breathing, to see that the _something_ Mon-El is forcibly dragging out of the lobby is _Lena_.

“Let me go,” Lena snarls, elbowing Mon-El hard in the stomach, letting out a surprised grunt of pain when the blow connects.

“Stop struggling,” Mon-El says, and Kara watches helplessly, not quite sure what’s going on, as he adjusts his grip on Lena and pulls her out into the courtyard, his eyes widening when he notices Kara.

“Supergirl!” Lena cries, but before she can say anything else, Mon-El covers her mouth with his hand.

Kara feels something in her give way. She’s not quite sure what it is.

“I-I don’t understand. W-what are you doing?”

(She thinks back to the Mon-El she found in the pod, peaceful and gentle in sleep. She thinks of the Mon-El who was broken and alone after learning he was the last of Daxam. She thinks of the Mon-El who was selfish and unconcerned with helping anyone but himself but yet was funny and charming and volunteered to help with maintaining calm among the alien population during the protests, using the fact that he could pass as human to keep others from getting hurt. She thinks of the Mon-El who said he didn’t want to be a hero, who just wanted to be _normal_ , something Kara could understand—something she has felt too.

She thinks of Mon-El and she has no idea how the Daxamite she took under her wing—desperate to be what Clark wasn’t, to show him he could _care_ , to show him that he wasn’t going to be alone—ended up here, security guards rushing out of L-Corp, Mon-El’s hand tightening its grip over Lena’s mouth.)

“I lost everything once, Supergirl,” he says, and he’s shaking, there’s something hard in his eyes, something Kara missed all this time, so focused on the loneliness in the slump of his shoulders, in the smile he flashed the second he noticed anyone looking at him. “I lost my planet. I lost my family and friends. And now, when I _finally_ have a chance to have something new, they’re trying to take it from me again.”

“Let her go.”

(She’s proud that her voice is stern. That she doesn’t falter. That she doesn’t rake at her eyes and wonder desperately why Mon-El looks so much like Clark, why she can’t separate the two of them in her mind.)

“Why would you fight for her? Why do you _care_?” Mon-El demands, turning his head suddenly to look over at the security guard who’s raised his weapon. “I can break her neck faster than you can fire that gun,” he hisses, glaring until the man drops his weapon. “All of you! Drop your guns.”

“Mon-El, please,” Kara begins, not quite sure where she’s going with this, but needing— _desperately_ needing—to get Lena out of harm’s way, “please, just let Lena go. She hasn’t done anything, she’s innocent.”

“Innocent?” Mon-El scoffs, like she’s speaking a different language, like she’s gone mad. “Her mother runs Cadmus. Her mother is the reason those protests started in the first place!” He shakes Lena a little, and Kara takes a step forward, hands raised in an attempt to be placating. “Don’t,” Mon-El warns. “Don’t come closer.”

“She’s done nothing, Mon-El. She’s _saved_ lives. She stopped Medusa.” He falters a little at those words, swallowing hard and looking uncertain for a moment. “She hasn’t done anything.”

“Not yet,” he says, eyes hardening once more. “I’ve read the articles, Supergirl. About her brother, about the _Luthors_ ,” he spits the name and Lena flinches in his grasp. “How long before she comes after us too? How long before I lose everything _again_?”

(She wanted him to _care_. She wanted him to see beyond his own self-interest and his ability to pass as a human. She wanted him to realize he had a chance to do so much good with the abilities he’d gained since landing on Earth. And he does care, she should’ve seen it. Should’ve paid more attention to the desperation to contact home, noticed the clinging to that alien bar, the devastation that tore at him after the bar was attacked by Cadmus. She should’ve known that Mon-El did care.

She should’ve seen that he decided it was alien refugees like himself who deserved his protection and help.)

“Lena’s not like that,” Kara tries, taking another step when Mon-El’s brows furrow. He trusts her. She knows that. She’s the one who lent him books, who watched movies with him until three in the morning, who taught him all the slang terms that so confused her when she first landed. She was an Alex to him—a sister, a friend, a mentor. She showed him all that Earth had to offer, she helped him learn to control his powers, she put aside her own feelings about Daxam to mourn the fallen planet.

So where did she go so wrong?

Because she stands in the middle of the courtyard in front of L-Corp with the House of El’s crest on her chest, cape billowing behind her, bystanders looking to _her_ for hope and protection and safety, and there’s Mon-El, threatening a woman he doesn’t even know.

(Lena’s eyes are so wide, she looks so afraid. And this, this is all Kara’s fault. She should’ve watched Mon-El more, should’ve spent more time with him, should’ve tried to understand the anger beyond the pain in his eyes, should’ve noticed that his smiles were forced and broken. She failed him, like Clark failed her, and she thinks it’s a family trait, she thinks perhaps her mother was wrong, that Astra was wrong.

Kara is no hero. If she was, she would’ve protected those closest to her from _hurting_ so much.

As it is, Kara hasn’t protected anyone at all—not the baby cousin who was a man when she met him, not the sister who she inadvertently outshone, not the Daxamite who hid all his fear behind jokes, and not even the Luthor she’s come to love.)

“Do you want to be angry?” Kara asks when Mon-El continues to stand there with clouded eyes, looking so conflicted and for the first time worried. “Be angry with _me_. _My_ father created Medusa. It’s _my_ people’s fault that Daxam was destroyed. It was _my_ responsibility to protect the aliens in National City. I’ve failed you. I’m the reason you’ve lost everything.” Lena’s eyes are filled with tears but Kara doesn’t stop to consider why. Mon-El’s grip loosens slightly, his clouded expression beginning to clear. “Let her go. Your fight is with me.”

“You saved me,” he whispers, shaking his head. “They said you wouldn’t try to save her. But I knew better.” He smiles, and it’s odd looking, it’s small and sad and oh so real—perhaps the first real smile she’s seen on his face—and again Kara wonders where she went wrong. “You saved me,” he repeats, “I knew you’d save her too. That’s just who you are.”

“Who’s they? Mon-El, let me—”

She never gets to finish her sentence. At that moment, several things happen at once:

A loud blaring sound goes off, bringing Kara to her knees (it’s Lillian, it’s Cadmus, it’s a trap).

Guns fire, the shots barely audible over the sound that forces Kara to clamp her hands over her ears.

Guardian is suddenly there, followed by police officers, and they surround the area.

Lena cries out—in pain, in fear, in worry, Kara doesn’t know—Mon-El is on the ground, Guardian is shouting something that Kara can’t even hear.

Mon-El is on the ground, blood seeping from a wound in his abdomen.

(But it’s Clark she sees, Clark who she was sent to Earth to protect, Clark and her mother who she’s failing now. Mon-El is bleeding and in pain and all Kara can see is her mother’s heartbroken gaze as she asked Kara to protect her little cousin and here she is, failing, failing, _failing_.

Mon-El was a chance to make up what she never got to do. Mon-El was her chance to prove she was spared for a reason, that she was _supposed_ to be here beyond being Superman’s cousin and a second-choice hero. And he’s dying, he’s dying and Kara’s in so much pain.)

She forgets who she is. At least, that’s what she later tells Alex, a half-assed explanation that doesn’t convince her sister at all. Perhaps the truth is something much different. Perhaps the truth is that for a moment—the high pitched tone blasting her eardrums, Mon-El’s blood soaking through his shirt, Guardian and Lena going after the source of Lillian’s weapon—she stops being Supergirl. She ceases to be Kara Danvers.

Perhaps the truth is, as she fails a man who took the place of her cousin, she remembers that she’s Kara Zor-El first and foremost—an alien whose mother sent to Earth for a very specific purpose.

And perhaps it’s because of that, that reminder that chills her to the core, that she rushes over to Mon-El the second the tone ceases, that she ignores the officers around her—Maggie’s cries for her to stop, that Mon-El is a _criminal_ —and she lifts him off the ground and shoots into the air.

(Later, Cadmus will broadcast the video.

It will look like Supergirl chose an alien over what was right and it will ignite dozens of protests, this time calling for Supergirl to hang her cape—to register, to be monitored, to be kept away from humans.

But it will also look like Supergirl chose to protect a Luthor over one of her own, and it will ignite anger, aliens across the city butting heads with humans, denying that they ever wanted _anything_ to do with the Girl of Steel who consistently chose humans over them.

Later, Cadmus will broadcast the video, and Supergirl will be rebranded as a villain, and the next time people take to the streets, her worst fear comes to pass: she’s unable to keep the peace, and violence erupts.)

x

(Mon-El lives.

When he wakes up, he refuses to talk, only looking at Kara with sad eyes and an ashamed expression, and he doesn’t protest when he’s tossed into a cell. It’s only when the others are out of earshot that he presses his forehead against the glass of the cell, telling her quite earnestly he was just trying to do what she taught him—to stand up for what was right.

He seems sincere when he says he’s sorry.

Kara doesn’t even look at him before leaving him.

Carr has Kara write an article about the ‘fall’ of Supergirl. She ignores the looks James sends her way, in no mood to try and decipher his silence and his reluctance to tell her what’s really going on.

Alex comes over every night, laden with doughnuts and potstickers, and they catch up on their favorite shows, chatting about everything except for what happened right outside L-Corp, but Kara knows that Alex knows exactly what happened because every night, before she leaves, she presses a kiss to Kara’s forehead and smiles the way she used to when they were teenagers and Kara couldn’t sleep because of nightmares.

Maggie texts her several days after the _incident_ —Kara’s not quite sure how she feels when it’s as if National City thinks she’s infected with Red Kryptonite again, how they treat her with such fear and such suspicion again. The text is only four words long: _It’ll pass, little Danvers_.

Lena calls to cancel their lunch plans.

“It’s been an exhausting week,” she tells Kara, and it translates to, _I need to be alone to process_.

Kara sags into Winn’s hug when he tracks her down at the DEO, offering comfort and no judgment.

And the days pass.)

x

She figures it’s a mistake sometime between landing on Lena’s balcony and knocking gently on the glass. Yet, she can’t quite help the excited skip of her heart when Lena stands and opens the door, moving aside to let her in.

(Kara Danvers hasn’t seen Lena in almost two weeks. They still text, somewhat regularly, but each time Kara suggests lunch or dinner or even coffee, Lena finds a reason to say no. Looking at her now—at the bags beneath her eyes, the tremble of her fingers, the wariness and tenseness of her shoulders—she realizes their time apart has been for a reason.)

“I heard you were hurt in the bombing this morning,” Lena says before Kara has a chance to speak, before she can comment on the gauntness of Lena’s cheeks, her red-rimmed eyes.

( _Failure_ , she thinks _. Failure, you couldn’t even keep_ Lena _safe_.)

“Nothing a few hours in the sun couldn’t fix,” Kara says lightly, looking around for Judge. It takes her a moment to realize he’s not around.

“I left him at home,” Lena says as if she’s read Kara’s mind, walking over to her desk and settling back in her chair. “I figure if there’s going to be an attempt on my life every other week, why put Judge in the line of fire?”

It’s said so casually, so easily, like she’s commenting on the weather or L-Corp stock, and it brings an ache to Kara’s chest, knocks the air out of her lungs. And it’s that, the expectation, the faux-cheerful tone, that has Kara stumbling forward, needing to reach out and touch Lena (reminding herself that she’s _real_ , alive) but not wanting to cross any boundaries.

“I’m so sorry,” she says instead, clenching her hands into fists and staring at the spot Judge used to curl up in, eying her critically. “It was my fault. I—”

“—convinced a man to break into my office and threaten my life because somehow that was supposed to stop my mother?”

“No, but I—”

“—allowed the man to shoot me? Kill me? Hurt me in any way besides wounding my pride?”

“That’s not the point—”

“—but it _is_ , Supergirl,” Lena interrupts a third time, looking terribly pleased with herself. “You told me that I inspired you, that you wanted to forge your own path ahead.”

“And look how well that’s turned out! Half the city is at war. Every other day I’m branded as an alien sympathizer—never mind that I _am_ an alien—and in between that there are articles about how my _job_ is to hunt aliens.”

“You can’t have expected it to be _easy_ , Supergirl,” Lena says, raising an eyebrow. “No one is going to hold hands and love each other just because you _asked_ them to. Isn’t that what a hero is? A shining example?”

“My cousin is the hero,” Kara snaps, hating the word and hating the kindness and gentleness in Lena’s tone. She didn’t deserve it. Not after Mon-El, not after allowing Lena to get hurt.

“Your cousin is the reason Cadmus even exists.”

“Why won’t you let me apologize?”

“Because you don’t have any reason to be apologizing,” Lena laughs, shaking her head. “When will you stop allowing others to dictate what you’re supposed to be doing? You talked about legacy.” She smiles a little, pausing long enough that Kara meets her eyes. “How will you ever carve out your own legacy if you’re so busy carrying everyone else’s?”

“You should hate me,” Kara admits quietly, breaking eye contact. To her surprise, however, Lena just laughs.

“Why? Because I’m a Luthor?” She straightens some papers on her desk, clearly mulling over her next words carefully. “Someone once told me they believed in me when I didn’t quite believe in myself,” she says slowly. “So I’ll just follow her example: Supergirl, I believe in you.” Kara looks over at her and Lena’s eyes are so knowing, her grin chock full of meaning, and Kara finds herself swallowing hard, for the first time comfortable with remaining ignorant. Without acknowledging Lena’s steadfast belief in her with more than a nod, Kara takes a step over to the balcony before stopping, suddenly filled with the need to do something for Lena.

“I know you haven’t been sleeping,” she says softly. “I know that you keep your gun in your nightstand.” Lena’s eyes begin to widen, something about her expression changing, morphing into something softer and less wary. Kara wonders why. “But you shouldn’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Lena’s shoulders relax, her smile becoming a little more sloppy—more real.

“Funny,” she says. “I was just about to tell you that.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: this entire fic was born out of watching that hallmark christmas movie with Brandon routh. I love Brandon routh. he's forever the only superman that matters, I don't care what anyone says

Some days, Lena wonders if she should just tell Kara she knows.

It’s not that she wants to force Kara to come out or that she’s worried about somehow slipping up and making a mess of the whole thing. For one, what she’s most concerned with is if Kara is comfortable around her, and for another, it’s terribly easy to compartmentalize, separate Kara and Supergirl and ignore the fact that they’re one and the same (it’s made easier because after so long on Earth Kara has gotten the clumsy human act down to a tee, the distinctions between her alter egos clear and unmistakable).

She wonders if she should just tell Kara she knows because Kara seems increasingly agitated as the weeks drag on.

The public perception of Supergirl has not changed—half the city hates her for one reason, the other half hates her for another. Articles and videos are everywhere, decrying the once revered hero, and as more and more resentment builds, Kara sinks further and further into herself. Her visits to L-Corp become shorter and less frequent. (This, Lena winces, might be her own fault. She’d tried to pull away, not wanting Kara to see how much nearly being killed— _again_ , she refuses to think—had affected her, not wanting her to see the bags beneath her eyes that were stubbornly refusing to be hidden by make-up, not wanting her to see the slight tremor of her hand each time the door to her office opened, not wanting her to hear the pounding of her heart at every noise and sharp movement. She’d heard the things Kara had said, she’d witnessed all that pain and guilt in Kara’s eyes, and damn it all to hell, she found herself willing to pull away from the very best thing to ever happen to her if it meant not adding more weight to shoulders that already bore so much.) Kara’s eyes seem to dull. She seems to crumple before Lena’s eyes, back—once so straight and proud—is bent and broken, the challenge and determination in the tilt of her chin and superhero pose is missing.

Lena wonders if this is her mother’s true plan.

She’s had more than enough experience with Lillian Luthor to know that the woman was an expert in breaking spirits, at chipping away at the very essence of who people are until they’re left vulnerable and bare, nerves exposed and aching, never allowed a moment to rest or heal. Perhaps Lex’s downfall had made her see killing a Super was too hard, that defeating them had less to do with kryptonite and bombs and more with taking away the very thing that gave them power: support and love from the people they protected. Perhaps Lillian had discovered what Lena had understood as she got to know Kara, that for all her kindness and selflessness—for all that honor and desperation to help others—all that Kara really wants is to belong. Supergirl was a chance for Kara to be accepted without hiding her heritage, her family’s coat of arms proudly displayed on her chest, holding far more meaning for her than it ever could for Superman.

(Perhaps that was what drew Lena to Kara in the first place. Not the flustered smile or the laughter or the unrelenting support, but the realization that Kara feels so _alone_ —the last of her kind in a world that is growing increasingly divided.

Perhaps for all their disagreements, it was the fact that they were both searching to belong somewhere that made a Super and a Luthor working together feel so…right. Inevitable, even.

Perhaps it’s the realization that the people they would truly ever be at home with—ever be normal with, ever _belong_ with—are long gone.)

But now, with Supergirl serving as some sort of sacrifice in a meaningless conflict fueled by anger, distrust, and hate, Kara’s lost that chance to fully be herself, forced back into hiding. It’s easy to separate Kara and Supergirl—it’s easy to see them as two distinct figures. Kara is the person, the essence, the beating heart and soul of the alien who lost everything and had to rebuild upon arriving on this planet. Supergirl is an expression, a shout into the void, seeming to say, _I’m here! I exist! We are not lost! We still matter!_ I _still matter!_

And what better way to break someone than putting that expression under lock and key and suggesting everything said and done is pointless, that their very existence is pointless?

And so Lena wonders if she should just tell Kara she knows. She thought that waiting until Kara was ready to tell her would be preferable, that giving Kara the time and space to come out in her own time would make her more comfortable. But the events of the last several weeks and Kara’s increasingly dimmer smiles have worn Lena’s patience thin.

She wants to grab Kara by the slumped shoulders, she wants to tilt her chin up, she wants to see that glint in Kara’s eyes—once so bright and blinding, now overwhelmed by whatever guilt and insecurity that’s darkened Kara’s outlook. She wants to help, to show that Kara doesn’t _need_ Supergirl to be important and vital, to show her that she’s a hero in her own right, to show Kara that she’s saved _her_ , with nothing more than smiles and steadfast belief. Lena wants to shout into that void where Supergirl resides and she wants to make sure Kara understands:

She matters. She matters and exists with or without her powers, she’s a hero with or without her powers, and she’s never alone—even if the entire city revolts—with or without her powers because Lena will always be on her side.

Lena wonders if she should just tell Kara she knows about her alter ego, but she’s yet to figure out a way of admitting that without also accidentally admitting—between the sincerity and the fierceness—that she’s fallen in love with Kara Danvers. And well, it’s not about her.

So Lena focuses her energy elsewhere—namely, tracking down her mother and Cadmus to put an end to all this, and maybe, _maybe_ , bring that glint in Kara’s eyes back.

x

She notices Judge looking up from where he’s sprawled near the window before she hears the knock on her door. Frowning, mostly because it’s far too early for visitors, Lena abandons her newspaper and coffee and heads to her door, looking through the peephole before sighing and opening her door.

“Agent Danvers, what a pleasure,” Lena says, stepping back and gesturing for Alex to enter. “Coffee?”

“This isn’t really a social call,” Alex says, crossing her arms over her chest almost uncomfortably, but she follows Lena back into her kitchen and doesn’t protest when Lena grabs a second mug and pours Alex a cup of coffee.

“I didn’t imagine it was a social call,” Lena grins, taking a sip of her own coffee and raising an eyebrow at Alex. “I haven’t met very many people who willingly wake up around sunrise.” 

“Part of the job,” Alex says, her lips quirking somewhat. She fiddles with the handle of her mug for a moment before letting out a sigh.

“So you’re here for work, are you?” Lena says before Alex can speak, before she can attempt to muddle through an explanation of whatever her agency is looking into. Lena’s heard it before, she knows the gist. Something shady has happened, Lex is maybe perhaps tangentially involved (maybe Lillian too), and surely the only remaining Luthor should know what’s going on. “I can assure you, L-Corp is not involved in whatever—”

“You need to stop looking into Cadmus,” Alex interrupts, meeting Lena’s gaze and actually _laughing_ at Lena’s shock. “What? Just because you’re Kara’s friend doesn’t mean I won’t look into you and keep an eye on you. Frankly, it’s because you’re Kara’s friend that I’m being so careful.”

“Oh? Can’t trust a Luthor?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Alex scoffs. “I had James Olsen under surveillance for nearly an entire year and he’s Kara’s best friend.” Alex takes a sip of her coffee, humming appreciatively, then shrugs a little. “It’s not overprotective,” she denies before Lena can even suggest it.

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Really?”

“Of course not. I was thinking it was insane.”

Alex’s eyes narrow, her head tilts to the side, and her smile grows a little wider.

“Okay. So I get why Kara likes you,” she says, waving off Lena’s immediate need for a clarification. “But you can’t distract me so easily, Luthor. You need to stop looking into Cadmus. You’re drawing too much attention to yourself and you’re more likely to end up as a target.”

“Because I’m already so safe?”

“That’s…not the point,” Alex says, the tips of her ears going red, breaking eye contact entirely. “So that’s the cat, is it?” she adds, looking over at Judge. “I couldn’t go anywhere without hearing about Lena Luthor’s pet cat. He’s Internet famous.”

“I told Kara not to write about him.”

“She’s always wanted a pet,” Alex continues, not really listening. “But what with being an alien forced to hide her powers and all…well, she’s had more important things to worry about.” Alex turns to watch Lena’s mouth open and close repeatedly with no sound coming out, looking terribly pleased with herself.

“I—I have no idea what you mean.”

“Oh yeah,” Alex says, nodding approvingly, “I definitely can see why Kara likes you. But there’s no reason to lie.” She drains the last of her coffee and places her hands on her hips, and Lena wonders if she’s attempting to look imposing. (If she is, she’s failing miserably, mostly she looks vaguely amused and very entertained.) “I know you know about Kara.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Lena tries again, ignoring Alex’s undignified snort.

“I’m thrilled you’re trying so hard here, but you don’t have to. I know Kara told you about ‘ _Mike’_ and I know you met him,” her lips purse and her expression turns disapproving at the very thought of the young man, “and Kara’s been freaking out about why you haven’t asked her why one of her friends came after you.”

“I simply didn’t recall he was the same man she introduced me to.”

“Please,” Alex laughs, something akin to respect in her eyes. “So when did you figure out my sister’s secret? At the gala? After Medusa? A few weeks ago when she very clearly chose protecting you over protecting Mon-El?”

“Does it matter?” Lena asks, dropping the act and crossing her arms over her chest. “Glasses aren’t a very great disguise, you know.”

“So I’ve heard,” Alex mutters wryly, rolling her eyes. She turns her back on Lena and approaches Judge slowly, bending down and holding out her hand, smiling when he closes the last of the distance between them, asking for affection. He purrs and not for the first time, Lena feels rather betrayed by her damn cat. “Here’s the thing, Lena,” Alex begins slowly, not looking away from Judge. “Kara thinks I don’t trust you. And she might be right, just a little. I’ve been…distracted lately, and I haven’t been paying as much attention to her as I should have, so I’ve missed a lot.” She purses her lips, clearly thinking over her words. “But you’re her friend and if anything happened to you….” She trails off, looking over at Lena with a frown. “Stay away from Cadmus.”

“So by protecting me you’re protecting Kara?”

“See, I knew you were smart.”

“I can’t just stop. You have to understand. It’s my responsibility to fix this.” Judge abandons Alex as Lena speaks, returning to his spot beneath the window, stretching out languidly under the sun’s rays. Alex watches him go, open-mouthed at the sudden rejection, and then straightens, heading back to Lena with her brows furrowed and her lips twisted into a displeased scowl.

“I’m starting not to like knowing why Kara is so fond of you,” Alex says, hands back on her hips. “You’re not responsible for your family’s actions, Luthor.”

“The world disagrees with you,” Lena says, shrugging off Alex’s concerned look easily. “Besides, this involves Kara. I would assume you of all people would understand why I can’t just walk away.”

“Fair warning,” Alex begins, amusement once again coloring her tone—as if she’s actively attempting not to say something aloud—and her stance becoming much more relaxed, “Kara doesn’t exactly like it when people try to protect her. Seems to believe she’s the only one allowed to do the protecting.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing I’m not trying to protect her. I’m just trying to help.”

Alex doesn’t look convinced, and Lena motions towards her watch to prevent questions or another pointed comment about how much Kara ‘cares.’ (Lena doesn’t quite appreciate that thud of hope in her chest each time Alex makes the declaration, after all, she’s quite accustomed to squashing out hope the second it makes an appearance.)

“You sound pretty determined.”

“I am.”

“Then come work with us. If you’re looking into Cadmus, at least do it in a way we can keep an eye on you—protect you.”

Lena eyes Alex for a moment, unsure.

“And you won’t tell Kara I know about her secret? I want her to tell me when she’s ready.”

Alex smiles, but this time, she doesn’t make any sort of pointed comment. She does, however, reach out over to Lena to squeeze her forearm gently.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Luthor,” she says simply before gesturing towards her empty mug. “Next time, the coffee is on me, okay?” 

Lena doesn’t question if there’s going to be a next time—it’s quite clear that as long as she wants Kara in her life, she’s going to get Alex too.

(She finds that she doesn’t think that’s such a terrible thing.)

x

“Ms. Grant is back,” Kara tells her at lunch several days later, concern written all over her features and her teeth dragging over her bottom lip repeatedly. Lena wants to tell her it’s distracting but instead she folds her napkin and tosses it aside, giving Kara her full attention and keeping her eyes determinedly fixed above Kara’s nose, not really up for the masochistic task that was stopping herself from leaning over and kissing those very distracting lips.

“And how do you feel about that?” she asks carefully, studying Kara closely. To her shock, the question makes Kara laugh, not become more introspective.

“It’s probably the best thing that could’ve happened, actually,” she says, shrugging lightly. “She’s, um, _handling_ the Supergirl story.”

“I’m sorry, I suppose I’m not very familiar with how journalism works. What does that mean?” Lena asks, genuinely confused. The concept of controlling a narrative is not exactly something Lena’s unfamiliar with—after all, her PR team consistently has had to twist stories into odd shapes in order to make L-Corp come out looking good (especially before L-Corp was L-Corp and her brother was not quite yet a raving lunatic, back when all she really had to worry about were her father’s extra-marital affairs and the odd article that hinted at Lillian’s distant relationship with her adoptive daughter, a problem fixed by a photo ‘accidentally’ taken when Lena and Lillian were spending a day together). What she doesn’t understand is how someone with so-called journalistic integrity—committed to telling the truth—would be so at ease with the idea of ‘handling’ a story.

“Ms. Grant branded Supergirl,” Kara says, running an idle finger over the condensation on her glass of water. “She created Supergirl in a way.” It’s said sadly, almost nostalgically, and Lena wonders what sort of relationship Kara had with her former boss. From the twist of Kara’s lips, the dark look in her eyes, something infinitely _broken_ in the way she sighs, Lena realizes that Kara likely saw Cat Grant as more than just a boss. She was a mentor, a friend, a confidant for Supergirl. “She’s going to tell the truth and eventually…eventually Supergirl will have to regain the people’s trust.”

“Supergirl didn’t do anything wrong,” Lena immediately defends, momentarily thinking only of bringing a smile back to Kara’s lips.

“Didn’t she?” Kara asks, raising her eyebrow and leaning back in her chair. She’s never seemed older than she does in this moment, the remnants of an entire world dancing behind her eyes, the weight of another just beginning to settle on her shoulders, her gaze dropping to the table and her arms wrapping tightly around herself. “She could’ve stopped all this. But she…I don’t know. She missed it.”

“Kara, I…” She trails off as Kara looks up, almost hopefully. It feels like they’ve reached an impasse, a cliff’s edge, and one wrong word or action will send whatever fragile thing that’s grown between them hurtling to the ground. To be perfectly honest, despite her last name, Lena’s not all that fond of crashing explosions. “I’d never claim to know Supergirl,” she begins again, slowly and tentatively, eyes locked on Kara’s, “but I know what it means to be judged by something beyond my control. And for all of Supergirl’s powers, sometimes there’s just nothing to be done.”

“I don’t believe that. I can’t. Because that means just _accepting_ horrible things. It means not fixing it before it all blows up in your face because everyone just decided there’s nothing to be done and then you’re _alone_ and—” She stops suddenly, seemingly aware she’s no longer playing an act, that for an achingly real moment, she’s just _Kara_ —not a reporter, not a hero, not an alien stranded on a planet, but just a girl who once lost everything and feels as if she’s about to lose everything again.

And _damn_ if that isn’t a feeling with which Lena’s intimately familiar.

“I’d say Supergirl agrees with you,” Lena says lightly, watching as Kara jumps a little, looking shocked and clearly going over everything she just said, wondering if she somehow gave herself away. Lena tries not to let it sting, but well…it does. She trusts Kara, she understands why Kara hasn’t told her, and she desperately wants Kara to tell her on her own terms about the Supergirl secret. And yet…Lena still desperately wants Kara to _tell her_ the Supergirl secret, to trust her with this so that the voice in the back of her head, the one screaming _you’re a Luthor nothing but a Luthor_ can finally be silenced. She firmly ignores the smarting and instead smiles as warmly as she can, determined to be here for Kara in this moment. “She’s out there everyday, still helping in anyway she can, still risking everything for the people of this city.”

“And what if that’s not enough?” Kara asks, voice soft and broken.

Lena studies her for a moment, thinks of all her attempts to bring Lex back, all her wishes that perhaps Lillian truly loved her, and the twinge of hurt that stubbornly refused to ebb at the sight of Kara not-so-subtly balking at the very _possibility_ of having given away her secret finally disappears entirely. That persistent insecurity and the whispers of _Luthor_ wash away with a great heave and Lena feels _light_. And her answer is honest and very unlike her: full of hope.

“It is. It’s enough.”

x

“Won’t Kara realize I’m here?” Lena asks, impressed with how she keeps her voice even despite the uneasiness she’s feeling. She sort of expected a windowless building with an indistinguishable smell and week’s old coffee stains near computers that whirr consistently away. Instead, she’s greeted by wide, expansive windows, light streaming into the open space, the floors wiped clean and the only smell in the air the remnants some sort of pastry.

“Nah,” Winn says cheerfully, handing her a badge attached to a lanyard, her eyes oddly wide in the photo, her name glittering almost as if out of place right underneath. “The walls are lead lined, she can’t see through them. And we’ve sound-proofed the office you’ll be spending most of your time in, so she won’t hear you either.”

“Isn’t it strange to safeguard your organization against the very person who works for it?” Lena asks, looking at Alex for clarification. While she just shrugs, Winn lets out an amused snort.

“You wouldn’t say that if you’d been around in the Red K days. _Whew_ that was a, well, a doozy.” He fiddles with something on his tablet, not noticing or not caring about the glare Alex shoots his way. “Besides, J’onn claims that every eventuality needs to be taken into account here at the DE—”

“—what Winn _means_ to say is that Supergirl understands the precautions,” Alex interrupts, looking thoroughly pissed off. Winn holds his hands up as he meets her gaze, grimacing lightly.

“Right, right, right. Anyway,” he turns back to Lena excitedly, “I took the liberty of connecting everything to your system at L-Corp. You know, in case you want to get any work done.”

“You hacked into L-Corp?”

“Uh…no?”

“With that,” Alex cuts in once more, rolling her eyes at the wince on Winn’s face, “I think Winn can just get back to work. Come on, Luthor. You’re with me.”

“I’m going to need to know how he got in,” Lena tells Alex as they walk down a hallway, away from all the light and bustle and towards a more silent and almost _unsettling_ parts of the DEO. (Alex’s previous ire at Winn almost letting Lena in on the secret of where they worked was moot—as if she wouldn’t notice the enormous letters in the very foyer of the building. For a secret organization, they weren’t all too troubled by actually keeping themselves a secret.) “My security system is always—”

“Winn is _very_ good at his job, Lena. And he was at it for nearly a month. Honestly, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“I still need to know.”

“Fine. I’ll send him your way later. But don’t say I didn’t try to save you from him and his endless questions,” Alex mutters, though the intimidating and gruff effect is lost in the fondness and affection of her voice.

“What were the Red K days?” Lena asks just as Alex comes to a halt at a door. She blinks rapidly and clears her throat before turning to Lena.

“A reminder that Kara and I still have a lot to get through,” she mumbles, not deigning to elaborate further. Instead, she pushes the door open and leads Lena into a brightly lit office. Two desks are pushed against the far wall, covered entirely in files, and near the center of the room is what looks to be a miniature command center—similar to Winn’s own set-up—complete with a coffee maker. “Everything we have on Cadmus is in this room. You and I are the only two people who have access to it.” She looks over at Lena and grins at whatever it is she sees in Lena’s expression. “We’re going to be working a lot together, Luthor. I hope you don’t mind rock.”

x

Alex is the one who warns her to maybe avoid the DEO for a few days, but it’s Winn who calls her and tells her in no uncertain terms to not come into work.

“ _He’s_ here,” Winn tells her over the phone, his voice effusive and panicked and maybe a little aroused? “So, um, you can’t be. Alex and J’onn don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”

“Hurt? Hurt how? Winn, you—”

“—sorry, Lena, can’t talk, see you later this week!”

He hangs up before she has a chance to protest.

(That afternoon she sees a brief news clip of Superman standing beside Supergirl, offering his support, assuring the people of National City that the peace would be kept. Suddenly Winn’s comments make sense, but though she bristles at the notion that Superman would _dare_ hurt her in any way, she’s more concerned about Kara and the expressionless look she sports as she stands beside her cousin.

Who suggested the photo op? And more importantly, did they realize how utterly _bad_ of an idea it was?)

She doesn’t get the chance to discuss it with Kara. Though she thinks about it all day—from the second she sees Superman’s face plastered on screens around the city early that morning to the uncomfortable way Kara looked at the ground when her photo was taken with her cousin in the afternoon—there’s no sign of Supergirl anywhere, which makes the relentless _obsessing_ even worse.

Because what if she was hurt? What if bringing Superman in was admitting tacit defeat? What about all the things Kara had once said about legacy and being her own person—her desire to stand out, be her own person, use the abilities she’d gained to do _good?_

(Why did it matter so much to Lena anyway? Why did it feel like an honest to god punch to the gut at the very thought that Kara was wrong, that what’s meant to be is meant to be and can never be changed, meaning that Lena will always be a Luthor and Kara will always be dragging the remnants of a fallen planet behind her, the guilt making her sink through the ground and drown. Why did Lena look at the pictures of Superman and feel nothing but trepidation and then look to Supergirl—a supposed villain if the masses were anything to go by—and feel nothing but…well, love?

And why did she feel so _relieved_ to make that admission, even if it was merely to herself?)

In a rather futile attempt to distract herself from all the terrible places her mind keeps returning to, Lena locks herself in her office and works the day away, barely noticing the time until she hears a light tap on her window. Except, when she turns around, ready to anxiously tell Kara she needn’t knock, _ever_ , it’s not Kara outside her office, but _Superman_. 

She hesitates before unlocking the door to her balcony and allowing him to walk into her office.

(He’s so different from his cousin. His steps are heavy, but with purpose and certainty rather than from loss and pain. He doesn’t smile, makes no attempt to hide the way he searches the room, the symbol on his chest noticeably bigger—as if he had any right to it, as if he understood the weight behind it.

She doesn’t like him. Because of Lex, because of the suspicion rolling off him in waves, because of the way Kara talks about him, like she’s still waiting for the moment he’ll hold out a hand and tell her she’s home.)

“Miss Luthor,” he says, nodding at her when he seems to be satisfied that she doesn’t have any murderous weapons tucked away. Lena just raises an eyebrow, not inclined to be the one to address the elephant in the room—a red and blue elephant, in fact, that was looking at her like she’d broken several laws. “I think it’s about time you and I had a chat, don’t you?”

“Spare me the self-righteous lecture, Superman,” Lena says, waving a hand. “No, I’m not working with my mother, no, I didn’t know about Cadmus, no, I’m not planning on unleashing any anti-alien rhetoric onto the world. So if we’re done, I really need to—”

“I’m not here because of that, I’m here because of Kara Danvers.”

She not shocked. She’s not. (Except she absolutely is and she has no idea how to hide that, not when he just _sprung_ the name on her, like it was nothing, like she wasn’t supposed to be pretending she didn’t know who Kara was.)

“Excuse me?” 

“Let’s not play games, shall we?” he says, removing his hands from his hips and choosing to cross his arms over his chest instead, concealing the symbol displayed prominently there. “Unlike you, Miss Luthor, I was never really good at chess anyway.”

Lena blinks, wondering if she actually heard the tacit admission she _thought_ she heard. The _I’m outmatched_ , the _you have the upper hand._ She hadn’t known Superman was even capable of thinking such a thing, let alone admitting it aloud.

“Fine. What about Kara?”

“I want to know what you’re doing. Or what you think you’re doing.”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Miss Luthor…”

“I _don’t_ understand the question,” Lena repeats, now annoyed. For someone who didn’t want to play games, Superman was awfully good at beating around the bush. For a second, she thinks he won’t actually elaborate—his eyes are fixed on the window, like he desperately wished he could be anywhere but with her (which, quite frankly, is a wish Lena shared).

“Is it a long con?” he asks finally, and the way he raises his chin reminds her of Kara and her pride—the latent proof that she’s not of this world. “Are you biding your time? Are you trying to hurt her? Because I don’t know you, Miss Luthor, but I’m familiar enough with your family, and Kara’s had more than enough heartbreak.”

(And oh he’s trying to _protect_ Kara, in his own strangely arrogantly endearing way. He’s standing there, tall and stiff, attempting to discern her motivations, looking out for his cousin in the only way he knows how.

But _oh_ he’s so unaware of the way Kara speaks about him, the fact that she’d rather have this conversation with her, tangible evidence that he cares—awkwardly and clumsily but caring all the same—to carry around and store in her heart for those days she can’t ignore the full weight of Krypton.

Funny, Lena thinks mirthlessly, how she knows Kara better than the cousin who made it his responsibility to save people even as he forgot—or ignored—that Kara once needed saving too.)

“And you would know all about Kara’s heartbreak, would you?”

He looks like she just slapped him. It’s strangely satisfying.

“You aren’t—”

“—you wanted to stop playing games, Mr. Kent, I’m just doing as you asked.” If he had been shocked before, now he looks completely flabbergasted. “I figured out Kara’s secret, you think I didn’t figure out yours?”

Clark’s lips twist into something resembling a smile, “It’s the glasses, isn’t it? Doesn’t help at all.”

“Not really, no.”

“Do you think Lex knew?” he asks weakly, and not for the first time, she wonders at the relationship he had with her brother. She studies him for a moment, watching as he transforms before her eyes. He sags a little, his smile comes more easily, his eyes look…brighter. All of his acts, all of the arrogance and pride and self-righteousness slips away and he’s suddenly just Clark Kent the reporter in a Superman costume.

“I think he was too focused on inventing things to hurt you to care about who was under the cape. Besides, I’m considerably smarter than Lex.”

“Yes, you are,” Clark says slowly, looking like he’s seeing her for the first time. “I’m still not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.”

“Because it makes your ‘long con’ idea more plausible?”

“Kara’s better at this,” he waves his hand around, “ _heroing_ thing.” He grins, shrugging helplessly. “She has so much faith, prefers to _understand_ why people turn to anger. Throwing a punch is all well and good, but getting to the heart of the matter? I can’t do that.” Slowly, his grin is replaced by a contemplative frown, and his head tilts slightly to the side as he studies her. “I’m worried that between her attempts to understand you she’s going to fall in love. And I’m worried she’s wrong about you.”

(Lena’s heart thumps wildly in her chest and she knows he hears it because he raises his eyebrows but she can’t explain that it’s not fear that she’s been found out but _hope_ that’s pounding in her chest and through her veins.

Hope that Kara said enough to make Clark suspect she’d fallen in love, hope that Lena somehow stands a chance, hope that the feelings she’s been nursing might possibly be returned.

It’s something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel with Alex and her pointed comments, so positive that Alex was just exaggerating, something she’s not so sure of if even _Clark_ had seen it.)

“So you’re here to what? Warn me? Threaten me?” She has absolutely no idea how her voice remains even, how she sounds steady and assured even as her hands shake.

“I suppose so,” Clark tells her honestly, stepping towards her window and signaling that their conversation is officially at its end. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes when it comes to Kara, some which I’ll never be able to make up for, but Lena Luthor, you could expose me to the world, become worse than Lex ever was, succeed where he failed, and I’d _still_ come after you with everything I have should you ever hurt Kara.” He’s hard and serious and for the first time Lena can understand Lex’s fear of this so-called god, can see why he’d be so wary of all the power at Superman’s fingertips. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, she thinks wryly. Lex was proof enough of that.

“You should tell Kara that,” she says, surprising Clark enough that he pauses and turns to her with wide eyes. “Not that you threatened me, I doubt she’d like that, but what you’re willing to do for her, how much you care.”

“She knows.”

“No, Mr. Kent. She really doesn’t.”

He studies her for a moment longer then lets out a strangled laugh.

“I suppose understanding is a two-way street,” he says, a strange expression flitting over his face—as if he felt he should’ve seen this coming, as if he was mentally berating himself for missing something obvious. “I’ll see you around, Miss Luthor.”

And with that, he’s gone.

x

She feels a little strange—and more than a little nervous—as she knocks on Kara’s door, armed with nothing but doughnuts and dozens of photos of Judge stretching out beneath the window (and a few with him staring intently at a piece of paper, on the prowl like a predator).

The nervousness ebbs the second Kara opens the door, a soft smile on her lips.

“Hi,” she says, smile fading as she motions for Lena to come in, her brows furrowing a little. “You look tired. Are you still not sleeping?”

Lena wonders if she should mention that Supergirl had known about her sleeping issues, not Kara Danvers.

“I’m fine, I’m more worried about you.” Kara’s frown becomes more pronounced as she closes the door and leads Lena into the kitchen, bustling about as she searches for a kettle to make tea. “I saw the photos of Superman and Supergirl,” Lena continues, watching as Kara stiffens. “Snapper Carr must have put you through the ringer to get a story on it, right?”

“No, actually. He was more interested in the potential connections between Cadmus and the military. A, uh, friend of mine, Lucy Lane, had some bad news about that.”

“I see.”

“It’s not as if Superman supporting Supergirl isn’t important,” Kara continues, seemingly not hearing Lena at all. “Because it is. I mean—he’s—Superman’s been around longer. People trust him more. You know? So it makes sense, it’s a smart move, to have him calm people down, let them know he’s protecting the city too.”

“Kara—”

“—it’s important. It is,” she stresses, not looking at Lena at all. “Ms. Grant is wrong, he needed to be here. Supergirl isn’t enough, she…she failed.”

“She didn’t fail,” Lena begins bracingly, wishing she could reach out and pull Kara into her arms, wishing that she didn’t have to continue pretending she doesn’t know Kara’s secret.

“Two people died last night, Lena,” Kara whispers, kettle and water and tea long since abandoned, her hands braced against the kitchen counter and her shoulders hunched, hair providing a curtain for her face. “There were injuries last week, but I-I mean…two people _died_. How can—how will Supergirl live with that? Knowing it’s her fault?”

Superman’s sudden appearance that morning, the photo op, and the surprise visit to her office suddenly makes sense. And she wants to tell Kara it’ll be all right, that it’s not her fault, that blaming herself and looking so _defeated_ is exactly what Lillian wants, but she can’t.

So she does the only thing she can.

“What do you need?”

“Sorry?”

“You look sad and I don’t think doughnuts will be enough to cheer you up. So what do you need?”

(She doesn’t say, _I know how you feel_. She doesn’t say, _blaming yourself won’t help_. She doesn’t say, _no one is defined by their mistakes—they’re not defined by what others have done._

She doesn’t say it but judging from the way Kara looks at her, Lena thinks she heard it anyway.)

“Will you stay? Will you just stay with me?”

She doesn’t say, _always_. But she might as well have.

x

“I figure they have to have a base, a permanent one,” Alex says, tipping back in her chair, feet propped up on the desk, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Nothing we found at the warehouse we raided had any capability to hack into everyone’s electronic devices.”

“Maybe my mother moves around to draw our attention away from her real base of operations?

“It would make sense, but the manpower _alone_ would be—” Alex cuts herself off at the sound of a loud crashing noise, in her feet with her gun drawn in mere seconds. “Stay here,” she orders, leaving the room quickly, door left ajar behind her. Lena bites her lip and after a second she grabs the first heavy item she sees and steps carefully out into the hallway, following the sound of the loud voices and smashing.

“Okay, calm down,” Lena hears Alex say bracingly, followed by another crash.

“Calm down?” Lena’s heart nearly slams to a stop at the pain and anger in Kara’s voice. “ _Calm down_? You _knew_ , Alex. You knew what James was up to, all of you knew, and you didn’t _tell_ me!”

“It was my choice, Kara,” James Olsen says as Lena rounds the corner, stapler still in hand. James is looking at Kara with knitted brows and a deep frown, while Kara just looks _furious_. “You don’t get to decide who gets to be a hero. You don’t get to choose how people live their lives.”

“But you’re _not_ a hero!” Kara shouts, throwing her hands up in the air. “You’re not like me and you’re not like Clark no matter how much you want to be. You’re _human_ and you _lied_ to me for months. All of you did.” She makes to turn and fly away but it’s at that moment her eyes fall on Lena, standing there with her stapler, and her expression goes from furious to _broken_. Alex follows Kara’s gaze, her mouth dropping open in surprise.

“Supergirl, listen, it’s not—”

“I can’t,” Kara waves her off, eyes not leaving Lena’s. “I can’t deal with this. I have to go.” She’s shot off before anyone can get in a word edgewise, and Alex turns to Lena with a bitter look.

“Really? A stapler is your weapon of choice against an unknown enemy that was smashing things around? I’m sure Kara was literally _quaking_ in her boots because of your _stapler_.”

“Aren’t you going after her?”

“Are you kidding?” Winn snorts, emerging from where he was hiding behind his desk. “I thought punching old cars was bad, this is _much_ worse. Give her time to cool off.”

Lena turns to Alex pleadingly, but Alex shakes her head.

“She needs to be alone right now. I’ll check up on her tonight, let you know how she is. But for now, you and I have to get back to work.”

They’re heading back to the office dedicated to researching Cadmus when James finally finds his voice.

“I think I’ve missed a lot.”

“You have _no_ idea,” Winn whistles.

x

She’s considering whether or not to scoop Judge off her laptop and get to work or leave him alone to sleep when she hears a loud knock on her door, startling her enough that the first thing she reaches for is her handgun (always kept at arm’s reach, the previous attempt at her life still on the forefront of her mind despite how much she denies it to Alex’s face). Before she can decide whether or not her surprise visitor requires a greeting with a gun, she notices a text, Alex’s name looking oddly big on her phone’s screen.

 _She’s on her way to you_.

Lena pulls away from her handgun and heads to the door, frown tugging on her lips, and as Alex warned, Kara is standing there, expression grim and shoulders hunched.

“You look…terrible,” Lena says, reaching out to take Kara’s hand, flinching when Kara moves out of her way, stepping around her and entering Lena’s apartment. She begins to pace as she watches Lena slowly close the door, frown becoming more pronounced. “Kara…is there something wrong?”

(What a stupid question. Of _course_ there’s something wrong. Kara’s lost the trust of the city, she’s found out her friends have been lying to her, _Superman_ was brought in to do damage control, and Lillian is still out there.

Kara’s been through the ringer, more than once, and even for a Super, it must be taking its toll.)

“No. No, I’m fine, I just wanted to see you.” She isn’t very convincing because even as she says so, her eyes are on anything but Lena, finally focusing on Judge. She ceases pacing but she doesn’t approach him, though she seems to soften a little, her lips quirking. Lena’s about to make a joke—maybe show her the photos she hadn’t had a chance to show her before—but it’s then that Kara notices the gun, her expression hardening all at once, looking positively _crumpled_. “You…you still can’t sleep then?”

“Kara, it’s fine.”

“Is it? Because from where I’m standing it’s _not_ , Lena.” Her hands clench into fists and she resumes her pacing. “You nearly _died_. Not even because of something your family did, but because of—because of someone else’s mistakes and I just _don’t understand_.”

“That others can make mistakes?”

Kara’s eyes meet Lena’s in shock, coming to a stuttered halt.

“It’s not that…I mean maybe—it’s _different_. It’s not the same.”

“Kara, no one is perfect.”

“But Supergirl is _supposed_ to be!” Kara says, voice breaking even as she forces the words out, looking terribly shocked that she’s spoken at all. “She can’t—you’re _human_ ,” Kara stresses, and Lena wonders if she even is aware of what she’s saying anymore—secrets and half-truths tossed out the window as tears appear in her eyes. “You’re human, and you’re fragile, and one mistake can mean you’re gone forever, and _Rao_ , I can’t lose anyone else.”

“I’m fine, I’m right here,” Lena attempts to placate. It’s the wrong move.

“You’re making yourself a target! Working with my sister, literally _baiting_ Cadmus into coming after you, like you don’t—like your safety isn’t important. You’re so… _obsessed_ with what other people think of you that you don’t realize how much I—” She stops suddenly, running her fingers though her hair, taking in several heaving breaths. “Why isn’t what I see enough?” she asks in a soft whisper. “Why can’t you understand you’re a hero to _me_?”

“This isn’t about me, is it?” Lena asks, steeling herself as she steps closer to Kara. She raises a hand slowly, giving Kara ample time to pull away, and brushes Kara’s tears away with the pad of her thumb, hand coming to rest right below Kara’s ear. “It’s okay to be afraid, Kara. You taught me that.”

“Yeah?” she sniffs out disbelievingly, breaking eye contact.

“Yes,” Lena confirms, tilting Kara’s chin up until she meets her gaze once more. “Because you showed me I’m not alone. And Kara, neither are you.”

“I can’t lose you. I can’t lose anyone else,” Kara says, and Lena doesn’t know what makes her do it—the despondency in Kara’s tone, the way Judge has abandoned her laptop and is instead studying them closely—but she presses her forehead against Kara’s and tucks a stray lock of hair behind Kara’s ear. 

“Let us help you, Kara. Let _me_ help you. You shouldn’t carry all that weight on your own.”

Kara doesn’t respond with words—she leans in for a kiss instead.

And Lena knows—she does, she’s not a horrible person—that she should pull back and wait until Kara’s not emotionally vulnerable, when she’s not looking for comfort out of desperation and fear. (Lena’s no stranger to that, after all, that search for warmth and that craving for touch that followed her beyond college, hoping to find a moment’s rest in a kiss.) She knows she should pull away and offer Kara hot chocolate or an order of potstickers, tell her to sleep off the worst of the sadness and loneliness. But she can’t.

Because Kara was _asking_ her for something, she was deepening the kiss and wrapping her arms around Lena’s waist, tugging her closer. Kara was looking for solace and peace and maybe a moment’s safety and, dammit it all to hell, if Lena could offer that then she _would_ , right or wrong—heartbreak in the morning or not.

So she allows Kara to back her slowly towards the couch. Continues kissing Kara even when her knees hit the cushions and she finds herself on her back with Kara hovering over her, one hand on her cheek and the other splayed out on her waist. Hums when Kara presses kisses down her neck, huffing a breath when the hand at her hip slips under her blouse and begins to ghost over skin, rising higher and higher and higher…

She barely notices that her own hands have been exploring too, unbuttoning Kara’s shirt, both of them too caught up in kisses and heaving breathing to notice the exposed blue of the suit until Lena’s hand brushes over the crest and stills—at the physical proof before her eyes—and Kara stiffens.

“Are you upset?” Kara asks softly, putting distance between them, focused on Lena with concern.

(And Lena wonders what Kara is really asking:

_Are you upset I’m an alien?_

_Are you upset my cousin jailed your brother?_

_Are you upset I’ve lied to you all these months?_

And most importantly of all…

 _Are you upset I couldn’t tell you?_ )

It takes Lena only a second to consider it, thinking about every moment she wished Kara would allow her to help, every moment she wondered if Kara couldn’t trust her, every moment that she just wanted to scream she knew if only to make Kara’s life easier.

But she finds, as she looks into Kara’s scared and worried eyes, none of that matters. Because Kara was trusting her _now_.

“No,” she says, and surprisingly—or maybe not so surprising at all—it’s the truth.

Kara laughs, moves to kiss her again, but then Judge begins to scratch at Lena’s carpet, mewling petulantly, making Kara laugh again and drop her head into Lena’s shoulder, sinking into Lena’s embrace.

“I think Judge is jealous,” she mock-whispers, closing her eyes when Lena threads her fingers through her hair.

“It figures he would choose _now_ to become possessive. He’s a traitor of a cat.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: when I adopt a cat, I'm naming her/him Judge. it's just a done deal. also, I want cat grant back. I don't think that's too much to ask

She looks unnecessarily uneasy, casting Kara furtive glances from where she stands behind Winn, attempting to be discreet and failing miserably, unable to hide the worry in her eyes or the concern she’s just _barely_ keeping herself from mentioning.

Winn, on the other hand, is unable to do much more than stare determinedly at his screen, uncharacteristically stiff and straight in his seat, a slight tremor to his hands as he uses DEO resources to search for certain radioactive materials Lena mentioned Cadmus was likely using, technology that could be traced, leftovers from LuthorCorp that Lillian likely didn’t know Lena knew about. 

And if this were any other day, if it were last week or even just a day prior, Kara would have turned to her sister, grabbed her by the wrist, dragged her to the nearest office, and the two of them would have the talk Alex is so desperate to have—communication is, after all, important. But today…today even looking at Alex is hard, let alone talking to her.

Because today James is standing in the corner of the room Alex had converted into a Cadmus ‘research center,’ in his Guardian suit and his arms crossed over his chest.

Because today, Lena sits next to Winn sullenly, having picked up on the mood in the room and clearly having decided she’s to blame.

Because today, J’onn and Alex are exchanging looks, as if to ask how best to handle her.

(It makes her…angry.

Frustrated.

 _Sad_.)

“Do you have anything, Winn?” Kara snaps as the silence stretches on. She hears a car alarm go off several blocks away, but before she can take advantage of the distraction, it goes silent, and for the fourth time already that morning, Kara curses under her breath.

(The first was when she woke up and remembered everything that had happened.

Then it was when she realized she was _angry_ as well as sad and hurt and so _scared_.

Then it was when Snapper Carr let her know her piece on Lena had been scrapped for a bigger story—Superman being in town and the implications for Cadmus.)

“I’m sorry, Kara, but,” he begins, but she doesn’t really allow him the time to finish. With a huff, she needlessly straightens her glasses, allows her gaze to sweep over the room—pausing only briefly on Lena and Alex, silently promising a future conversation—then turns her back on the group and leaves the room.

She doesn’t feel like dealing with them. Not right now. Not when….

(In a weak moment, practically drowning in her anger and her _hurt_ , Kara wonders if this was how Astra had felt when her mother had sentenced her to Fort Rozz. Did she feel the same betrayal, the same sense of wrongness, the same indignation? Or perhaps, in this situation, Kara isn’t Astra at all, but _Alura_ , knowing that the people around her have good reasons for what they did, but being unable to justify it to herself.

Or maybe it’s not analogous at all and she’s thinking about Astra and Alura and Krypton because she feels thirteen again, missing home again, feeling heartbroken again…

…Feeling so terribly, horribly alone, something she worked so hard to avoid feeling since the first time Alex pulled her into a hug and swore— _swore_ —to always be there for her.)

She’s not altogether surprised when she finds herself standing outside Mon-El’s cell, though she’s unsure what she wants to say. Instead, she watches expressionlessly as he sits up and looks at her, swallowing just a little nervously, running his fingers through his hair.

(And _oh_ he still looks like Clark.

He’s still Clark to her.)

“I just want to know what I did wrong,” Kara says, feeling her hands shake. “Just tell me what I did wrong that made you go after _Lena_.”

“Kara—”

“Why couldn’t you have just _listened_ to me? Why didn’t you _talk_ to me, tell me how you felt, tell me what was going on? Why did you turn your back on everything?” she interrupts, stepping towards the glass, watching as his face crumples, as guilt floods his expression. And she doesn’t care, she _doesn’t_ , because he should feel guilty, he should hurt. How could he have abandoned her, how could he have just left, choosing some cheap trick over her because somehow he thought that would help? “ _Rao_ , Kal, why wasn’t I enough?”

Mon-El’s eyes widen just as she catches on to her slip and she takes several steps back, one hand going to her forehead, the other on her hip, unable to help the sudden hunch of her shoulders or her hanging head.

“I’m sorry, Kara,” he whispers, even knowing she’s not talking about him, even knowing he’s taking the brunt of her anger because she can’t shout at Clark (or James, or Winn, or even Alex). “I was scared. It’s not an excuse, but I was scared.”

“Of _what_?”

“The same thing as you. Losing people again.”

x

“Kara? Will you let me in? I really don’t want to break down your door.” Alex is whispering, but Kara can hear her from where she’s huddled up on the couch, blanket pulled up to her chin, glasses tossed on the table. She hears another knock, a soft pattering of fingers, and when she shifts slightly to x-ray vision the door, she sees that Alex is leaning up against it, forehead pressed against the wood. “Kara. Please.”

(It’s the _please_ that does it. It reminds her of afternoons when everything was over-stimulating, when she locked herself in the room she shared with Alex, not opening the door for anyone but Alex after a soft, whispered _please_.)

“Hi,” Alex says, smiling when Kara opens the door, her blanket trailing behind her, glasses just a little lopsided.

“Hi,” Kara mumbles back, scrunching her nose when Alex reaches out to straighten her glasses and pulls the blanket more securely over her shoulders. She steps into Kara’s apartment hesitantly—a rare occurrence—and closes the door softly behind her.

“You didn’t come back today.”

“Supergirl wasn’t needed, was she?”

“Kara—”

“We fought enough the other night, Alex, I’m really not in the mood to fight again,” Kara interrupts, heading towards her kitchen to pull out the ice cream. She has a feeling they’ll need it. Maybe a sister night too, ignoring everything else that was going on, pretending Mon-El didn’t happen, Clark didn’t happen, James didn’t happen, Cadmus didn’t happen, and on and on and on.

Kara just wants to pretend.

“I’m not here to fight, Kara, I’m here to talk.”

“You want to talk _now?_ ” Kara demands, nearly dropping the tub of ice cream and the spoons she’d dug out of the drawer. Alex doesn’t look fazed by Kara’s anger. Rather, she seems a little glad. (And perhaps it makes sense, perhaps anger is better than silence.)

“Okay. So is this about James or Lena?”

“James. No, Lena.” Kara stops, considering. “Both.” She watches Alex for a moment, looking for her tells. It used to be a point of pride that Kara was the only one Alex ever let her guard down for, it used to be something that Kara used to keep herself focused on the present, a sort of anchor whenever she woke up alone and scared in the middle of the night, dreams of Krypton turning into nightmares. (At least she had _Alex_. Through everything, the loss, the pain, the abandonment, the grief…at least she had Alex.) “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, leaning heavily against her kitchen counter. “Why did you keep it a secret?”

“It was—” Alex stops, lets out a sigh, and shrugs helplessly as she looks down. “Honestly, I don’t really have an excuse, Kara. James wanted to be the one to tell you, but I knew he wouldn’t be able to. And Lena…between wanting to wait until you told her about Supergirl and not wanting to worry you, I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Alex shifts uncomfortably under Kara’s gaze, looking uncharacteristically unsure. It’s shockingly like the moment she tried to tell Kara about Maggie, the moment she struggled to keep her voice even as she admitted Maggie didn’t feel the same way. “It was a lie of omission and I really…there’s not really anything I can say, Kara. Besides I’m sorry.”

“Why is it so hard for you to talk to me?” Kara asks weakly, before thinking of her own issues with Mon-El, her latent guilt over how she so easily disregarded Alex when Clark visited months ago, the fact that she’d not yet mentioned her feelings for Lena in anything other than hints. “When did we stop talking, Alex?” she revises, circling around the kitchen table and pulling Alex into a hug, both of them sagging into it at once, relief palpable.

“Sometimes I have nightmares that I didn’t save you,” Alex whispers into her ear, gripping her shoulders tightly—tightly enough that Kara knew it would hurt had she been human. “I wake up thinking I never got you out of the Black Mercy, or that you’re still floating somewhere in space, or I’m a teenager again and I haven’t protected you from bullies, and Kara, I—”

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” Kara tries.

“It’s not. I don’t know who I am without you and sometimes I wonder if you know that.” She pulls away from the hug, studying Kara’s eyes carefully, her own suspiciously red-rimmed. Kara wonders just how hard Alex is trying to keep herself from crying. “I know I’m not the family you wanted, but—”

“You _are_ ,” Kara interrupts, this time forcefully, not understanding how Alex could’ve come to _this_ conclusion. “I meant what I said, you’re the only reason this planet ever felt like a home, and I wouldn’t trade you for anything, Alex.”

(Not Clark spending more time with her, not getting Astra back, not her supposed ‘perfect’ world.

Because Alex…Alex is _Alex._ She’s been Kara’s world for more than half her life.)

“I’m so sorry I kept secrets from you again. I’m so sorry I haven’t been talking to you.”

“You’re not the only one who’s been keeping secrets,” Kara says, laughing weakly to lighten the mood. She pulls Alex into another hug. “Have I mentioned I’ve fallen in love with Lena?”

“Oh, Kara,” Alex laughs into her ear, “I don’t think that’s much of a secret at all.”

Kara decides not to comment on how obvious she’s been and pulls away to hold out her pinky finger.

“Promise to talk even when it’s hard from now on? _Especially_ when it’s hard?”

“Yes,” Alex says, making the pinky promise with a smile. “So let’s start with you. Why did you really react that way with Mon-El?”

Kara’s shoulders deflate, feeling as though she should’ve seen this coming. She pulls out one of the kitchen chairs and sits down, pulling the ice cream and spoons towards herself, ignoring Alex’s grimace when she takes an enormous bite.

“He’s Kal-El,” she says once she’s swallowed. “Or at least what I thought being there for Kal-El would be like. And I failed my responsibility. I failed my mother.”

Alex plucks the melting ice cream out of Kara’s hands and takes a much more manageable bite, brows furrowed as if she’s thinking deeply.

“Do you think Clark ever feels guilty?” she asks suddenly, not meeting Kara’s eyes. “For not understanding Krypton the way you do? For not being able to pass anything on like you can? Do you think he feels guilty that he can’t help you carry Krypton?”

“He can’t help that,” Kara immediately defends. “He was sent here as a baby. He grew up as a human. It was out of his control, there’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

“So why do you feel guilty?”

“I—what?”

“Why do you feel guilty about the things that were out of _your_ control? You couldn’t have predicted you’d be stuck in the Phantom Zone, or that Clark wouldn’t need your protection, or that Mon-El would panic.” Alex finally meets Kara’s eyes, handing the ice cream back with a soft look, one that Kara’s seen thousands of times before—when she was scared or hurt or sad, and Alex took it upon herself to make a little bit of those feelings go away. “You’re always thinking about what Kara Danvers, Supergirl, or Kara Zor-El should do and feel and act. But what about you, just _Kara_?”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Kara sniffs, feeling the need to roll her shoulders and hide her face, uncomfortable under Alex’s scrutiny. “Which one is ‘just Kara?’”

Alex takes the ice cream back, ignoring Kara’s huff of protest.

“Maybe that’s your issue in the first place,” she says, scraping out the last of the ice cream exaggeratedly, grinning when Kara gasps in offense. “You keep thinking you have to choose.”

x

The DEO is quiet when Kara arrives, and she almost thinks that it’s because of her mood from the day before until she realizes agents are swarmed around Clark, staring at him in awe, even Winn’s excited chatter reduced to nothing but a soft buzz of words that go mostly ignored.

“It’s hero worship at its finest,” Lena says, coming up behind her and startling her a little. “I didn’t think one _could_ get a jump on a Super.”

“I was…distracted,” Kara says, turning to look at Lena and offering her a weak smile. “Any luck with the tracking?”

Lena frowns a little, clearly noting Kara’s strange mood, but doesn’t comment on it.

“Nothing yet,” she says instead, motioning to the screens behind her. She leans against the desk, and though her eyes remain fixed on the screens, it’s obvious she’s distracted. “I think I owe you an apology,” she says after a moment, drawing Kara’s attention fully away from Clark and his apparent entourage.

“For what?”

“For the other night,” Lena says slowly, her voice barely a whisper. Her cheeks are tinged pink, and Kara can hear the telltale increase in her heart rate. She just doesn’t understand why Lena’s reacting this way. “I shouldn’t have—I was wrong to….” She studies Kara’s face and she must not like whatever she sees because she’s suddenly shaking her head and pursing her lips and avoiding Kara’s eyes entirely. “You know what, never mind. I shouldn’t have brought this up at all, I’m sorry.”

“No, Lena, _no,_ ” she stresses when it looks like Lena’s determined to not believe her, “there’s nothing you should apologize for. _I_ kissed _you_. W-what—I mean, I’m all about consent. I should’ve asked first. Was it okay?”

“Yes,” Lena breathes. “More than okay.”

(And _oh_ hearing that from Lena feels like tangible relief. Perhaps it hadn’t been the best moment to act on her feelings, especially as she’d been so terrified after learning Lena was working on Cadmus—bringing herself into the line of fire once again—but she’d felt she _had_ to. She needed to let Lena know how she felt, needed to make sure she was real and alive and _there_.

And kissing her? _Rao_ , kissing her was like coming up for air. It had been spur of the moment and not entirely thought through—hinging on half-hopes that Lena’s comments were less friendly and more something else—and the moment Lena kissed back…it was like finding land again after being adrift for too long.

They’d only managed to talk briefly after Judge interrupted them, Supergirl getting called in, and Kara hadn’t managed to gauge if Lena had wanted the same things, if she wanted dates and giggling and late nights curled together and maybe a dog and a white picket fence.)

“Then we’re okay. Though maybe next time we could go out to dinner first. Maybe not be around Judge?”

“So a date?”

“Yes. If that’s okay?”

“It’s…it’s very okay.” She sounds breathless as she says it, her heart pounding rapidly away, worrying Kara just a little, unsure if humans could tolerate that. “I still do owe you an apology, though,” Lena says, pulling Kara’s thoughts away from the fragility of humans and if she should talk to Alex about Lena’s heart. Sure, her own did that when Lena smiled or laughed but she’s indestructible. Surely it would be dangerous for Lena?

“We didn’t do anything else that night,” Kara mutters, not really thinking about her words, blushing when Lena’s eyes widen. “Sorry, I’m just going to let you finish.”

“I thought I couldn’t tell you about working here because that would force you to come out to me about Supergirl before you were ready, but I think I was just scared that if you knew you’d keep me away from all this to protect me.” Lena bites her bottom lip, and while Kara wants to argue she knows Lena’s right. She _would_ have done her best to keep Lena out of it, especially after Mon-El. So instead, she takes Lena’s hand and squeezes gently. “I just want to help, Kara.”

“I don’t do well with surprises,” Kara says, smiling slightly. “Or change, really.” She bites her lip, stares at their still connected hands, and rubs her thumb along the crests and troughs of Lena’s knuckles. “No more secrets?” she asks.

Lena doesn’t even hesitate.

“No more secrets,” she promises.

x

Clark doesn’t stay in National City, not exactly anyway.

He comes and goes, randomly showing up to help her with a burglary or fire (that she doesn’t need help with at all, honestly, even if she could do without the ugly looks from people who once thanked her for her help) and then sticking around for the opportunistic photo, keeping up with the silent promise that Superman is protecting National City. It doesn’t put an end to the anti-alien protests, but it does help calm them down somewhat, even the most irate of them unwilling to upset Superman.

It’s a tense reprieve, obviously only temporary, and yet undeniably necessary.

It would be something Kara would tolerate just because she knew it’d come to an end soon, except they’re no closer to closing in on Cadmus or Lillian and every lead turns up a dead end. More and more often, Kara flies to the DEO late at night and sees that Lena has gone there straight from work, huddled over a computer with Alex and Winn, Lucy and Maggie bouncing ideas off one another with an occasional comment tossed in by James.

(It’s both a relief and a wonder that everyone Kara loves is in the same place, all working towards the same end. She hasn’t felt so at home—this sense of _belonging_ to something—since her mother put her into a pod and Krypton was destroyed.)

If that wasn’t stressful enough, CatCo is next to unbearable. Snapper had told her to come up with her own story idea, but he immediately trashes all her suggestions, barely even listening to her arguments. And Cat isn’t much better; rather than act like the Cat Grant Kara remembers, she seems intent on speaking in circles, her only advice to remember that Kara’s ‘extraordinary.’

And to make matters worse, Kara has to think of excuses to avoid James both at the DEO and at CatCo, refusing to even look at him even when he directly addresses her. And it’s childish and maybe more than a little passive aggressive, but she wants him to know how she feels, wants him to understand how much it hurts to just be cut off the way he cut her off.

Except, it backfires, because rather than hurt him, it just hurts her, further solidifying the chasm that’s cropped up between them, the distance she isn’t even sure she _wants_ to learn to navigate anymore.

(She worries she’s at risk of losing her friend, her _best_ friend. And yet she’s so _angry_.)

She’d have been content to keep up the avoidance strategies forever, her excuses actually becoming more and more believable as she distanced herself, but James doesn’t seem to be of the same mind, because three days into her silent treatment, he seems to break down and finally chases her down at the DEO, following her into an empty room, standing in front of the door stubbornly and barring her way out.

“You do realize I could _easily_ get out, right?” Kara asks, raising her chin. James visibly deflates at her words, making himself smaller, hunching in his shoulders like he does at CatCo and is worried he seems too imposing.

“Kara, please, talk to me.”

“Why? You didn’t want to talk before.”

He swallows and steps aside easily enough.

“I don’t get it,” he says as she moves to push past him. “You forgave Alex and Lena. But you can’t forgive me?”

“This isn’t about them.”

“Why not?”

“You _lied_ to me.”

“So did they!” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, taking a step away from her. “They lied to you too, but the only one you’re pushing away is _me_.”

“It’s different—”

“—God, Kara, how is it _different_ —”

“—because Alex has done this before!” she shouts, throwing her hands up in the air. “She lied to me about the DEO, and _Rao_ , she lied to me about Astra.” She doesn’t leave though she can, knowing she’s stunned James into silence. Instead, she leans heavily against the door, looking at him and hoping he understands what she’s trying to say. “She’s done it before and it _hurts,_ but she’s my _sister_. And Lena…she’s learning, she’s _trying_ and I’ve lied to her _so much_ from the day we met and she understood, never held it against me. How could I not do the same? But you…”

“But me?” James prompts.

“You’re my _best_ friend, James,” she says weakly, hanging her head and pressing her fingertips to her temples. “I’ve told you everything, trusted you with everything! I’ve shared everything with you, but you—you couldn’t even be honest with me. I just—why couldn’t you trust me?”

James takes a deep breath and shakes his head, looking pained. For a moment, Kara thinks he’s going to leave, unwilling to talk to her. But then he meets her eyes and he looks…sad.

“I wasn’t sure if I _could_ trust you, Kara,” he says finally.

“You didn’t—I don’t understand why—”

“—I’m happy for you, Kara. I _am_. And Lena…she’s not what I thought. She’s kind and funny and you were right, she’s good. I’m happy for you and no one is responsible for my feelings but me.”

(And _oh_ the sound of a heart breaking ringing out in the empty room might very well be Kara’s because she had missed this. _Too_ , she finds herself thinking viciously. _You missed this too._

 _Failure._ )

“James…”

“It was just…you ended things before we even had a chance to _start_ , Kara. Like your feelings had never been real, and it was so easy for you to go back to being friends but I—” He cut himself off, rubbing his eyes and taking another deep breath. “Being around you has been hard. Talking to you even harder. And telling you something that mattered to me? Telling you about something I put my all into? I didn’t want to risk my heart again.” He shakes his head, as if physically attempting to shrug off his vulnerability, and he gives her a shaky smile. “So I’m sorry, Kara. I’m sorry for lying to you. I’m sorry for scaring you. But I’m especially sorry for hurting you.”

“James, I—”

“I told you, the only one responsible for my feelings is me. And you know,” he laughs self-deprecatingly, “I know it’s only an excuse. Deep down, I knew I shouldn’t have hidden it from you. I just…I was scared.”

Kara blinks, still processing everything James has said.

“Yeah,” she says, wanting nothing more than to hug James, not quite sure if that would violate some sort of boundary between them, and hating that she felt so conflicted about something that was once so simple. “Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around.” 

x

Cat Grant stares at her as if she knows something, lips curled into a smile, arms crossed over her chest, one hand at her chin, index finger tapping lightly against her chin.

“My, my, Keira,” Cat says, smile growing. “You’ve grown up, haven’t you?”

Kara, who’d been leaving Snapper’s office after yet another unsuccessful pitch, immediately gives Cat all of her attention.

“I hope so?” she manages clumsily. Cat smiles gently in response, motioning for Kara to follow her with nothing but a tick of her head. 

“I’ve heard all _sorts_ of interesting rumors about you,” she says as she leads Kara into her office.

“W-what sort of rumors?” Kara asks, blanking a little and desperately attempting to remember if there’d been any hint that her secret was out. But no, the DEO monitored social media—if there’d been any sign her secret was out, J’onn would already know. She shuffles a little bit where she stands in front of Cat’s desk, watching as Cat settles into her chair with an exaggerated flourish, clearly glad to be back.

“That cold, careful, and cutthroat CEO, Lena Luthor, is hardly able to say no to you. That there’s more to your little puff pieces than meets the eye.” She does something strange with her eyebrows then, a cross between raising them and waggling them, clearly attempting to make sure Kara understood her comment to be suggestive. Kara stares at Cat for a moment, knowing her boss is waiting for a response—an admission of guilt, a confession of some sort, a plea for advice—but finds herself at a loss.

( _Failure_ , she thinks. _A failure at this too._ )

“I don’t know if you were right about me, Ms. Grant,” she mumbles, letting out a deep breath and taking the seat in front Cat’s desk, staring hard at her hands. “I don’t think I was meant to be a reporter.”

“We’ve all fallen in love with someone we’ve interviewed,” Cat says, waving a hand. “It happens. You just stop interviewing them, try marriage for a while, then have a nasty divorce. All in a day’s work.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Kara says, chancing a look up and catching the concern on Cat’s face before she’s able to mask it with her usual cool nonchalance. “I just…I wanted to be a reporter to _do_ something. Help people. And I haven’t. I wasn’t,” she pauses, thinking of Cadmus, the protests, Clark, Mon-El, James, even Alex and Lena, “I wasn’t enough. I’m not enough.”

To her shock, Cat Grant rolls her eyes.

“Oh come now, Kiera, how arrogant of you. Of _course_ you aren’t enough.”

“I—”

But Cat’s not done, and she certainly doesn’t appreciate Kara’s pitiful attempt at interrupting her, rolling her eyes once more.

“The _hero_ complex is really getting out of hand,” she says, standing suddenly, hands braced against her desk. Kara blushes under Cat’s intense glare, panicking over her use of ‘hero’ and wondering if it was just a jab or a hint of knowing something more. “Everyone’s out there thinking that they’re the only person capable of understanding or fixing a problem, that one person is _enough_. Well, I hate to break it to you, it’s not.”

“That’s not what I meant, I just—”

“Thought that you’d change the world all by your lonesome?” Cat tuts, shaking her head in disappointment. “Even I, Queen of All Media, didn’t get here on my own. And as great as I am, I couldn’t do any of this on my own. Everyone has a part to play, vital to the finished product.”

“I don’t know, Ms. Grant. I’m just Kara Danvers, a reporter who wrote about cats and apple pie.”

“Is that what you think? Did you know that your piece on cat owners brought in nearly a thousand dollars worth of donations for the animal shelter you wrote about?” Cat straightens, somehow making looking down at someone feel warm and safe. “Or that Lena Luthor _smiled_ when a photo was taken of her just last week? I’ve known that girl and her family for a long time, Kiera, she has very little to smile about.” She circles around her desk and comes over to stand next to Kara’s chair, placing a gentle hand on Kara’s shoulder before deftly pulling away, as if she couldn’t bear to show too much affection for too long. “You keep wondering why you aren’t enough, but that’s the wrong thing to ask yourself.”

“So what should I be asking, Ms. Grant?”

Cat shrugs.

“Why are you so determined to do things on your own?”

x

When she was seven, her mother had taken her to a distant planet. She’d called it a vacation, though they spent little time together, the foreign planet’s sun too warm and their days too long for Kara to feel entirely comfortable when she was left alone for hours on end. Astra had later whispered to Kara that her mother was searching for something (a solution? aid? an answer? to what?) and that it was best to not dwell on the trip.

(“Sometimes, little one,” Astra had said softly, smoothing back Kara’s hair, “we must do the questionable in order to prevent the unfathomable.”

Only now, years and years later, does Kara think back to the look on Astra’s face as she spoke, the concern in her eyes and the pain in the furrow of her brow, and wonder if that was when it all started. If that was the moment Astra knew she had to act on her own, to go to extremes, to hurt and lie and destroy because in her heart she began to believe the ends justified the means.)

Kara took Astra’s advice, of course, and applied it liberally to other aspects of her life. It is best not to dwell on the anti-alien sentiment _she_ brought about, lest she regrets ever putting on the S. It is best not to dwell too long on Krypton, lest she drown under its weight. It is best not to dwell on Clark’s distance, lest she find her guilt giving way to anger.

(She knows that Alex thinks she forgives Clark too easily, gives him too much leeway, admires him more than he deserves— _he abandoned you with us_ —but it’s not true. She’s so _scared_ of losing him entirely, this one last connection to her home, that she doesn’t want to push too hard, can’t dwell on what mistakes he might have made, if he hurt her inadvertently.

It was a conclusion she felt was undeniably proven when she confronted him about kryptonite, demanding to know why he hadn’t told her about it—why he’d allowed her to stay in the dark. “You were a teenager who just lost everything, Kara,” he’d said, hanging his head. “How was I supposed to look you in the eye and tell you that there was something on this planet that could cause you more pain?”)

She misses her aunt, not the one warped by desperation, the one she was sure she could save had she just had enough _time_ , but the one from her childhood—the one who smoothed back her hair and taught her about the stars and spent nights telling her stories until the red sun rose and illuminated the room with a rosy hue. She misses Astra, and she’s not quite sure who she can confess that to, who except for Rao would understand the sorrow in her heart and an offhand piece of advice that Kara has seized onto in order to merely _function_.

(Astra would know what to do, Astra would have an answer. She wouldn’t have snuck off to another planet searching for a solution, she would have stood tall and thrown everything out into the open, compelling those around her to rise up.

She inspired, she fought…she killed.)

“I do this too, you know.”

Kara opens her eyes slowly, knowing that there’s only one person who could be up here with her, having heard his approach from a long way off. She shifts so that she’s no longer floating facing the city, but hovering in the air and staring up at the stars.

“Not here, obviously,” he continues, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Over Metropolis. I did it a lot to clear my head when Lex was…well. You know.”

Kara nods, feels him float over to him and mimic her position. The last children of Krypton, staring up into space from Earth.

“Did you blame yourself?” she asks in a whisper. “For what happened with him? He was your friend.” It’s an unnecessary addition, and she knows it before she hears her cousin’s sigh.

“Yes,” he says simply. “And no.”

“It can’t be both, Kal.”

“I blame myself for missing it. For not being enough to bring him back. But the rest…Lois told me I didn’t make him into what he became.” He laughs a little, nudges Kara’s shoulder with his own. “It took me a while, but I finally realized she was right.”

“You didn’t think you were enough?”

( _Failure_ , she thinks. _You failed him in this too_.)

“Kara, I learned I wasn’t enough the day my dad died, every time I wasn’t fast or smart enough to save someone,” he pauses, nudging her shoulder again and waiting until she turns to look at him before he continues, “and when I pulled you out of your pod and you were scared and so alone and I knew it wasn’t me that you needed.”

“Kal, I—”

“I wish I’d been more involved after you first landed, wish I’d taken more time for you. You’re my family, you always will be, but you needed the Danvers more than you needed me.”

“I was supposed to take care of you, Clark,” she whispers, and once again she doesn’t need her cousin’s sigh to know that _Clark_ is an unnecessary addition, that he recognized the shift before she even pointed it out. (Because Kal and Clark, much like Kara Danvers and Kara Zor-El, are not the same person.)

“You might not believe me, but you did. Not in the way you were expecting maybe, but you gave me Krypton, Kara. Bits and pieces of a home I’ll never know.”

Kara can’t help it, she breaks down into tears, covering her face with her hand.

“What am I supposed to do, Clark? Everything’s a mess and I don’t know what to do.”

To her shock, Clark squeezes her hand briefly and tightly, his smile kind and perhaps a little bit awed, though by what, she doesn’t know.

“We’ll figure it out, Kara. And I’ll be behind you every step of the way. I promise.”

Again, to her shock, she believes him. 

x

True to his word, Clark ceases the infuriating _helping_ after their conversation, telling her National City doesn’t need him, and chooses to stay in the background, only helping if she asks for it. The photos stop, Snapper growls about the unpredictability of the Supers, and Cat gets a strange look on her face every time she meets Kara’s eyes, a cross between smug and knowing. But though things settle down at CatCo, the anti-alien sentiment merely grows, and the DEO is as busy as ever, dispatching agents all across the city to keep aliens from lashing out in protest.

She thinks they’ve finally made a breakthrough when they locate Cadmus’s main base—Lena and Alex shouting gleefully when they figure out what they’ve stumbled upon, Winn collapsing into his chair and throwing his hands up, his relief mirrored on everyone else’s faces—but despite the raid, despite securing Hank Henshaw, Lillian Luthor escapes.

“She’s one person,” Maggie mutters later, arms crossed over her chest, the elation of finally ending Cadmus ebbing away the longer Lillian remains just out of reach. “What sort of damage can she do all on her own? She has nothing, no tech, no defenses, no weird, creepy experiments—she’s lost.”

“Maybe,” Lena says, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “But she’s also desperate. And desperation is not a good look on a Luthor.”

“We can deal with Lillian later,” Alex argues, and Kara knows she’s staring right at her, watching her, waiting for her to show a reaction. “What matters now is the protests.”

Winn twirls towards his computer, types something in, and shakes his head.

“Apparently, no one cares that Cadmus isn’t broadcasting anymore. I guess the propaganda has done its job well—they’re organized, guys. I’m talking secret meetings at night discussing how much they hate aliens and how to get rid of them organized.” He types something else in and frowns. “And apparently, something big is going to happen in a few days.”

“Thanks for being so specific, Winn,” Alex deadpans, snapping her mouth shut when J’onn eyes her wearily. 

“Is there anyway to find out what they’re planning?” he asks gently, stepping over to Kara and placing a hand on her shoulder—grounding her, keeping her in the moment. She wonders how he knew she needed that.

“Unless you carry around an honorary ‘I hate aliens’ badge, no,” Winn says.

“If you could figure out when they have another meeting—”

“—don’t you think I’ve already tried that—”

“—maybe focus on Lillian instead, it sounds like her handiwork—”

“—we should send out agents to scour the city—”

“—the DEO doesn’t have that sort of manpower—”

“—you keep saying no why can’t you just—”

“Rao, stop arguing!” Kara says, rubbing her temples as she turns to face everyone. They all fall silent immediately, their expression ranging from curious to concerned, and Kara feels overwhelmed. “I’ll patrol over the city. Maybe I’ll hear something. Winn, keep digging into whatever these people are planning. You might find something.”

She doesn’t wait for their nods or their protests. Without another word, she’s gone.

x

“I picked an awful time to return," is the first thing Cat Grant says when Kara lands softly on the balcony. She's missed this, missed their conversations, and she allows familiarity and nostalgia flood through her for a moment as she looks at her mentor (and dare she say friend?) drain the last of her drink. “Max Lord has decided to be decent and literally disappeared off the face of the Earth, and I never thought I’d admit this, but I miss arguing with him.”

“I for one am glad you're back,” Kara says lightly, stepping closer to Cat. “If anyone can calm people down it's you.”

“You mean the protests?” Cat asks, snorting when Kara nods. “You're letting your alienness show, Supergirl.”

“Sorry?”

“We humans are complicated, to put it lightly. But one thing we all have in common is being motivated by fear.” She leans against the railing, smiling at Kara when she mimics the pose. “The greatest and worst things we've accomplished has been through fear. And that's all these protests are. Someone taking advantage of someone's fear.”

“Cadmus fell apart, Ms. Grant. But the fear is still there. And I…I can't fight fear, Ms. Grant. If anything, I add to it.”

The look Cat gives her in response takes her back in time, when she'd just started out as an assistant and she'd gotten Cat's lunch order wrong.

“My former assistant, Kara, is a reporter now,” Cat says slowly, one eyebrow raised, and that familiar churning in her stomach returns as the suspicions that Cat knows the truth about her rear their ugly heads. “She was assigned to Lena Luthor, a regular puff piece I think Snapper intended more as a way to get her out of his—well, I would say hair but that wouldn't be apt, would it?” She chuckles at her own joke, her gaze shifting from Kara to the lights of National City. She doesn't seem inclined to continue.

“I'm sure Snapper had a great laugh at your assistant's expense,” Kara says, attempting to prompt Cat into making her point.

“You'd think, wouldn't you?” Cat says softly. “But Kara is...” She frowns, like she thinks she's said too much. “Let me put it this way. Snapper would never admit it out loud, but she's exactly what he needed.”

“Exactly what he needed?” Kara repeats blankly, too shocked to pretend she’s not thrown by the comment—involved in some way.

“Oh yes,” Cat murmurs, smiling in that smugly knowing way, her eyes still on the city’s skyline. “Lena Luthor, likely the most feared person in all of National City, is now mostly known for her pet cat and her love of apple pie, for her philanthropic work at Luthor Children’s Hospital, for a fountain pen collection. Funny how a few words of truth can chip away at fear.”

“But—”

“There's a reason a rookie reporter went from puff pieces to covering the protests to writing about your fall, Supergirl. Snapper saw something in Kara, the same thing I see in her, the thing I see in you. Honesty, integrity, a drive to make things right.” She shrugs a little, looking impossibly pleased with herself, eyes shifting from the lights of National City to the sky. It's dark and clear, very few stars visible. But still Cat Grant smiles. “Groups like Cadmus, people who give into their fear and spew hate, they're always afraid of truth. Because the truth does what nothing else can: it gives people hope.” Her eyes return to Kara, a smirk on her lips. “And you know it better than anyone, Supergirl. If there's anything more powerful than fear, it's hope.”

x

Her pitch goes _phenomenally_ well with Snapper, something close to excitement in his eyes when she first suggests the piece, but with Alex and the others…well, it doesn’t go so great.

“I’m sorry, I thought I heard you say you want to interview yourself,” Alex says with wide eyes. “That sounds crazy. Tell me I’m not the only one who thinks that sounds crazy,” she continues as she looks wildly from J’onn to Lena. The four of them are huddled in one of the break rooms at CatCo, J’onn apparently only mildly uncomfortable while Lena seems vaguely worried. “Kara, what’s the point of a secret if you’re not bothered at all with keeping it a _secret_?”

“That’s why _J’onn_ is here,” Kara says excitedly, nearly jumping up and down. “I’ve thought about it all last night. I kept thinking that stopping all this is up to me, but I was wrong. I might have stopped Myriad but this…I can’t fix this just by _talking_. I have to be an example, I have to tell the truth. And what better way to do that than write an article?”

“And what are you going to tell the truth about, Kara?” Alex demands, reaching out to grab one of Kara’s hands. “About who you are? About Mon-El? Clark? What’re you going to say that will change _anyone’s_ minds?”

“She has a point,” Lena adds softly. “Just look at me. Once the narrative is out there…well, it’s hard to make it go away.”

Both Alex and Lena look confused when Kara just _smiles_ , finally— _finally_ —understanding what Cat had meant.

“Journalism…it’s not about changing minds. It’s about who, what, when, where, why, and how.” She chuckles, turning her head slightly in the direction of Snapper’s yelling, his struggle to keep his reporters productive as they all waited for Supergirl’s arrival. “It’s about letting people make up their own mind, letting truth and honesty chip away at fear.”

“Kara Danvers might never work again. You’re risking a lot by choosing to tell Supergirl’s truth,” Alex says, though she looks resigned, meaning that Kara has long since won, that the arguing is halfhearted at best. 

“This isn’t my choosing Supergirl. You said it yourself, I don’t have to choose. And I’m not, this is—this is every part of me.”

“It’s a good idea,” J’onn says slowly, not allowing Alex the chance to respond, her confused expression quickly replaced by mild offense when he ignores her narrowed eyes. “I could shapeshift into you again, ask Supergirl the questions you’ve prepared. It should fool Snapper Carr and the other reporters.” 

“J’onn, you can’t actually—we have to have more time to plan, you can’t just spring this on us ten minutes before the interview,” Alex argues. “Kara, I understand, I do. But accidentally exposing yourself to the world isn’t the best option.”

“I’d argue it’s our only option,” Kara shoots back. “We don’t know what the anti-alien protesters are planning and we’re no closer to finding out. We need a trump card.”

“And how will an article help with that?” Alex asks, looking torn. “Do you really think these people who’ve been angry and hateful will suddenly decide to not be just because you talked about yourself?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I think.” She smiles, shrugging a little. “Do you trust me, Alex?”

“Of course I do,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Fine. If you’re set on doing this…fine. I’ll handle things at the DEO while you…interview yourself.” She turns to leave before she pauses and pulls Kara into a tight hug, kissing on her cheek before leaving the room entirely. J’onn smiles and shapeshifts, rolling his shoulders (or her shoulders?), and mimics her habit of fiddling with her glasses.

“Well, Supergirl, I suppose I’d best go prepare.”

When he’s gone, Lena rests heavily against the door, raising her eyebrows at Kara.

“I understand why you asked Alex and J’onn here, but why did you call me?” she asks, apparently honestly confused. Kara reaches out slowly and takes her hand, squeezing softly and not letting go.

“I might have left a few things out,” Kara admits with a sheepish smile. “Can I count on your help?”

Lena laughs, a full, brilliant sound.

“Of course, Kara. Always.”

x

Her footsteps are light, barely there, when she lands on the balcony, and yet Lena turns immediately, expression lighting up as she catches sight of Kara, looking like she’d been waiting for hours—breathless and still as collected as ever.

“So?” she asks when Kara smiles at her, stepping into her living room and immediately heading for Judge, scratching him behind the ears. He lifts his head, commanding her to scratch under his chin as well. “Are they furious?”

“Alex and Snapper? Absolutely,” Kara laughs as she straightens, settling against the couch’s armrest, unable to help her grin when Judge continues to rub against her arm. “I like to think Cat was impressed. She didn’t say anything, anyway, which is always a good sign.”

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into it in the first place. Alex and I have _just_ started to get along, too,” Lena says, running her fingers through her hair.

In all honesty, Kara couldn’t believe it either. It was one thing for Supergirl to do an interview with ‘Kara Danvers’ and Snapper Carr, something that would end up in print, faceless and emotionless. It was quite another to have Lena film the entire thing secretly then use Cadmus’s own technology to have the interview play on every single screen in National City.

Alex was furious that Kara had gone one step further in jeopardizing her secret. Snapper Carr was furious that his scoop had been scooped. Kara, on the other hand, just felt an enormous weight get lifted off her shoulders. 

“Actually, Alex seems to think I brainwashed you,” Kara says, frowning. “Something about how you wouldn’t be so careless. I may have stopped listening halfway through the lecture.”

“Kara,” Lena chastises lightly, raising her eyebrow in disbelief. It’s odd, especially in quiet moments like this one, to realize just how well Lena knows her—how she knows Kara hangs to Alex’s every word, that she’d sit through anything if it made Alex happy. “Do you think it’ll work? That it’ll make someone come forward like you asked in the interview?”

“I do. Most of the DEO is monitoring social media accounts and other websites.” Kara throws herself onto the couch, legs dangling over the armrest, arms thrown open wide. “Now it’s just a matter of waiting. Though Clark doesn’t think we’ll be waiting long.”

“C-Clark?” Lena stammers, and when Kara chances a look at her, she seems terribly shocked.

“I told you, no more secrets. Besides, I already know he talked to you. We’ve been—well, Clark and I reconnecting, I guess.” She doesn’t say anything more as she watches Lena carefully circle around the couch and perch on little bit of empty space above Kara’s head, hands tentatively reaching out and threading her fingers through Kara’s hair.

“He loves you, you know,” Lena says softly, and Kara can hear the hitch in her breath when Kara closes her eyes and leans into Lena’s hand. “He’s really…well, defensive of you.”

Kara’s eyes snap open.

“What did he say to you?” she asks, wondering if she and her cousin had to have yet another talk. If he had said anything to Lena, if he had hurt her—

“The same thing your sister did, actually. Something about being smart and two-way streets. The usual.”

“I’m confused,” Kara says, frowning at Lena. To her surprise, Lena just laughs, not at all inclined to respond or elaborate. Instead, she gets to her feet, ignoring Kara’s groan of protest.

“I ordered pizza for you earlier. Hungry?”

“Lena, _always_ ,” she says, making Lena laugh again. She follows Lena’s movements around the kitchen for a moment, just content to see Lena so calm—so utterly _relaxed_ —and thinking that this is what she wants, every day for the rest of her life. She wants the normalcy, the easiness, the sense of _rightness_. She wants to spend every night chatting with Lena, wake up every morning next to her.

(And maybe, _probably_ , it’s too early to think this way. Maybe, _likely_ , she’s jumping in too quickly, not bothering to learn how to swim before she dives into the deep end. But it’s a feeling she can’t shake, doesn’t know how and doesn’t want to shake.

Lena is different, she’s special, and that’s all that really matters.)

“I never thanked you, by the way,” Kara says suddenly as she sits up, her own voice loud to her ears, the nervousness apparent in the speed with which she speaks, hoping against hope Lena doesn’t catch her uneasiness. (She’s always been so good at dealing with other people’s emotions, figuring out how and why they felt a certain way, but she’d never been able to dwell too long on her own feelings, always somewhat worried she’d touch on a latent anger or fear she couldn’t handle.)

Lena, who’s busy warming up a pizza with such glee that Kara doesn’t have the heart to remind her of her heat vision, pauses briefly, turning around to look at Kara with furrowed brows and downturned lips.

“Why would you thank me for pizza you haven’t eaten yet?”

“No. Not that. For what you said before the…” Kara sits up and gestures helplessly, feeling her cheeks and ears heat up, determined to bumble through the rest of her point. “Before I, you know, kissed you and all. What you said—I just wanted to thank you.”

Kara expects a lot of things. She expects Lena to become uncomfortable with the gratitude, for her to wave Kara off, for her to bite her lip and look away, even for her to roll her eyes. Kara’s thought about this moment for some time, has imagined every scenario, except apparently, the one that ends up occurring: Lena…laughs.

“Why would you thank me for something _you_ taught me?” she asks, still laughing.

“I—what are you— _what_?”

“Oh, come on, Kara. Working together, supporting one another, helping each other—that’s all you ever talk about. It’s all you ever do.” She rolls her eyes and leans against the kitchen table, arms crossed over her chest as she stares over at Kara. “When my mother tried to use Medusa, my first instinct was to work alone. _You_ were the one who made me see that just didn’t make sense, not anymore, not when I had you.” Her eyebrows rise, and the way she stands there, straight-backed and yet so at ease, so far away and yet so warm and inviting, makes Kara marvel at just how much Lena’s changed since they first met. She thinks back to the imperious CEO who refused to admit that the alien detection device could be harmful, and she finds that except for the eyes and intimidating smile, Lena’s practically unrecognizable.

(She didn’t _change_ , Kara realizes. She merely…she let go of all the guards, the shields, the rock hard armor she hid behind.

And Kara feels grateful that Lena trusts her enough to be vulnerable and open with her.)

“Kara?” Lena says, taking a hesitant step towards the couch as Kara’s silence stretches on.

“ _El mayarah_ ,” she whispers, choosing to watch Judge lick his paws clean rather than meet Lena’s eyes. “That’s what the S means. Stronger together.”

(She thinks—no, she knows—she forgot that somewhere along the way. She veered off course, lost and fumbling about, torn between a duty she still felt for a planet and a people that were gone and the home she loves now. She forgot it as she realized _she_ was the reason Alex hadn’t been able to focus on herself, when she couldn’t mentor Mon-El, when once again she lost the trust of the city—this time not because of what she did, but what she was.

Somewhere, in between wondering why she wasn’t enough and how things could go so wrong, she’d forgotten that it was okay to ask for help.)

“Kara? Are you all right?” Lena asks, crossing over to Kara and dropping to her knees in front of her. She seems concerned, and Kara’s not quite sure why until Lena reaches out and gently wipes under Kara’s eyes with the pads of her thumbs. “Why are you crying?”

(She’s crying because she’s thinking of Krypton, of her family and friends. She’s thinking of her family’s crest, how it felt like a lifeline to her when she landed on Earth and she saw it everywhere. She’s thinking of the crest and she’s thinking of Astra and the tears keep rolling.

Because Astra had never been a part of the House of El, but she had _known_ , had seen the S and had heard Kara’s father proudly declare their House’s motto. She had known, and she had forgotten as Kara had—but when Kara lost her way, she had people who came looking for her. Astra hadn’t been given the time to be found again.)

“Can we just—can we just sit here? Please?”

And Lena, once again proving how well she knows Kara, nods without any hesitation.

“Of course, whatever you need.”

x

“You look like shit, Danvers Junior,” Maggie says pleasantly when she opens the door. Alex is grimacing behind her, hiding most of her face behind her hands, but Kara just laughs.

“I spent the night patrolling the city, I haven’t slept or eat—oh my gosh! Are those pancakes?” Kara pushes past Maggie and heads straight for Alex’s kitchen and the plate stacked alarmingly high with pancakes. It’s Maggie’s turn to grimace slightly at the speed with which Kara begins to eat, making a face as she pulls on her coat.

“Right, well that’s my cue. I better go before Kara eats the plate too.”

“I’ve never done that,” Kara shoots back as she swallows, but Maggie just raises her eyebrows as if she’s not quite sure. “I can uninvite you from game night, you know,” Kara threatens, but it falls flat because there’s a bit of syrup at the corner of her mouth, and waving her fork menacingly just makes a piece of her pancake flop pathetically onto the table.

“Wow, Danvers. You pull no punches,” Maggie deadpans as she waves to Kara and kisses Alex goodbye, firmly shutting the door behind her. Kara lets her glasses slip down a little, and sure enough, after x-ray visioning the door, she sees that Maggie’s standing there, tongue sticking out before she chuckles to herself and walks down the hallway.

“Your girlfriend will be decimated in Scrabble next week,” Kara mutters, narrowing her eyes, straightening her glasses, and turning to her sister. She takes a bite of her pancakes as exaggeratedly as she can.

“I know you’re here because you’ve seen the news,” Alex says, ignoring Kara’s comment entirely and placing her hands on hands on her hips. “You could just say I told you so, you know. I would.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You haven’t—?” Alex stops, lets out a sigh, pulls something up on her phone, and tosses it over to Kara. “Look,” she instructs when Kara keeps chewing her pancakes. Kara sighs, but she does as she’s told, expecting an article of some sort by Snapper or Clark (or even _Cat_ ), but instead, she’s met with a video—it’s the same one that broadcasted the day before, thanks to Lena. “CatCo released the full video. It’s been played over and over again on every major news outlet. Don’t even get me started on the views online.”

“It went…viral?”

Alex snorts—indelicately.

“You’re _trending_ , Kara. It’s all everyone is talking about, not just here in National City, but across the world.”

“But I—I just wanted…I wanted to talk about Krypton. And Earth. About being an alien and hiding. I didn’t think—I’m _trending_?”

“Worldwide,” Alex adds unhelpfully, grinning as she pulls Kara’s coffee cup towards herself and takes a long sip. “But, this isn’t about _me_ saying I told you so, this is about you.”

“I’m confused,” Kara confesses as she tugs her coffee out of Alex’s hands with a dirty look. “What am I supposed to be smug about?” 

“Nearly a dozen people came forward earlier this morning—Maggie got a call from the precinct. _Apparently_ , hearing Supergirl talk about her experiences has made people rethink their position on alien rights.”

“Wait, _really_?”

“Why are you acting so surprised, this was your idea,” Alex says, shaking her head. “And don’t get too excited, it’s not like you’ve singlehandedly ended intolerance just by telling your story. What you did was make a few people very uncomfortable about bombing an alien refugee center.” When Kara makes to stand, ready to head towards the center—though she isn’t exactly sure _which_ of the few underfunded centers she needs to go to—Alex tugs her back into her seat with a weary sigh. “The DEO already handled it, Kara. Which you would know, had you _actually_ been patrolling the city.”

“Okay, so I wasn’t in the city.”

Alex’s eyes narrow and the sigh she releases is simultaneously longsuffering and amused and Kara wonders if that’s just a trick older siblings have.

“I know that much, Kara. But _where_ were you?”

“The Fortress of Solitude.” She can tell Alex is shocked, and she’s rather sure even a normal human would have noticed the sudden—if subdued—gasp Alex is unable to help. “I—I missed the anniversary of Astra’s death.” She stumbles over her words a little, taking in a too-deep breath and releasing it through her mouth, trying to maintain composure. “On Krypton, I remember…we honored the dead. But I wasn’t sure if I should pray to keep her in Rao’s light or if I should pray to Mordo since Astra was in the Military Guild but I—” She looks down at her empty plate, not quite sure what she’s trying to say. “I wanted to ask Kelex because I can’t remember—Alex, I can’t remember.”

“You’re not forgetting Krypton, Kara,” Alex says softly, shaking her head.

“I am. I am, I’m forgetting everything.”

“No,” she says, more firmly this time. “Kara, you’re not.” She taps her phone’s screen and jumps forward into the video, needlessly increasing the volume as video-Kara begins to describe Krypton’s cities and music and food—details Kara hadn’t even realized she’d said during the interview. She blinks away the tears she knows are gathering in her eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t be the one to say this, with what happened, but Kara, I don’t think Astra would care how you honored her, as long as you remembered her. We might have been enemies, but she loved you, she loved you so much that she helped me bring you back from the Black Mercy, and for that—for that I’ll always owe her.”

“She’s why I wanted to be a journalist,” Kara says quietly. “Astra wanted to tell the people of Krypton, wanted to warn everyone, fix things. She just…she just thought she had to do it alone.” She closes her eyes, breathes in and out, then turns to her sister with a smile. “But I have you.”

She doesn’t think she makes sense, but Alex nods, understanding anyway.

“Yeah, you’re pretty much stuck with me.” She lets out a laugh, rolling her shoulders exaggeratedly. “Even if you make me watch _Gilmore Girls_ reruns.”

“You’re the one that doesn’t have decent ice cream!”

“Listen, Maggie only buys the vegan stuff, okay? I don’t like it either, but you compromise in a relationship.” 

Kara smiles suddenly, making Alex frown at her in suspicion.

“By the way, Alex?”

“Yeah?” Alex mumbles, clearly wary.

“I told you so.”

x

As Alex predicted, Kara’s interview does not end intolerance. (Of course it wouldn’t, but still…Kara had hoped somewhat.)

Instead, it seems to take the wind out of the protesters’ sails, and while the protests against alien amnesty and rights don’t end, they fizzle out, the few who remain looking less contentious and more bored. (James suggests that it’s because people stopped being interested, with Cadmus no longer able to give their hate direction, the aimlessness of their cause led to apathy.) And the DEO, when not busy attempting to calm newly stranded aliens or talk down a frustrated protester, spends most of its time searching for Lillian—though Lena claims it’s pointless.

(“You won’t find her until she’s ready to attack again. And she _will_ attack again,” Lena tells them one afternoon, arms crossed over her chest.

“Well then, it’s a good thing we’ll have your help for when she does,” J’onn answers without even looking Lena’s way, and Kara makes a mental note to hug him as tightly as she can later.)

As for Supergirl, she’s…needed. Wanted sometimes, too. The dirty looks begin to go away, the articles about her being a fake alien (though how that’s possible, Kara still hasn’t figured out) or a human pretender stop getting written, and even her harshest critics—Leslie Willis clones who cropped up after she turned into Livewire—find better things to rant about than Supergirl and her false heroism.

It’s not a victory, not really. It’s certainly not as clear-cut as the end of Myriad. After all, after that, she’d known it was over—she’d stopped the mind control, she’d saved National City, and Non…Non was gone. This time, however, though the immediate threat was gone, though for the most part everyone seems at peace with the streak of red in the sky, there’s still the sense that something is simmering, that nothing has ended at all.

“My experience with hate,” Maggie tells her when Kara confesses she’s worried, “is that you can win battles, but it’s really hard to win the war.”

It’s not exactly a comforting thought.

On the other hand, CatCo comes out looking great. Someone—likely Lois—catches Perry White ranting about how a gossip magazine managed to churn out more real journalism than the _Daily Planet_ , something that has Cat smiling nearly all day, letting out a sigh as she claims she’d really best _stay_ back, since clearly her return brought back the ‘journalistic integrity’ of her magazine. 

(The comment has Snapper seething in his office, and Kara wondering if anyone in the building would bother to thank _her_ for the interview with Supergirl.)

James, strangely enough, is overjoyed when Cat decides to stay.

“I didn’t really like being in charge,” he tells Kara during lunch. They’re trying to talk again, trying to be friends again, something Kara’s overjoyed about. ( _El mayarah_ , she thinks.) “Where I’m at now makes slipping away to the DEO simpler.”

“And how is Jimmy Junior?” Kara asks with a laugh, thinking of the tiny alien Lucy brought back with her, one who’d immediately taken a liking to James. They’re not yet quite sure where he’s from, but sometimes when he laughs, Kara would swear that he’s somehow related to James.

“I still can’t believe the name caught on,” James sighs, though he smiles when Kara laughs. He keeps staring at her even after her laughter fades and his smile is long gone, but before Kara can ask what’s wrong, he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, clearing his throat carefully. “I, uh, I wanted to apologize, Kara,” he tells her, nodding along as he speaks.

“Apologize?”

“For making you think it was your fault that I didn’t tell you about Guardian.”

“James, I…” she starts, but she doesn’t really know what she’s going to say. That he’s wrong? Because he’s not, she did blame herself. That it was okay? It wasn’t, it still isn’t, she’s still terrified of…abandonment. (She wonders if that’s what it really came down to. Clark, Alex, James, Cat, even the people of National City…in someway it’d felt like they’d all abandoned her.) James smiles like he knows exactly what she’s thinking.

“I said that no one was responsible for my feelings but me, but…well, I didn’t act like it. I should’ve told you, Kara.” He’s not smiling now. He’s staring at the table, at his half-eaten sandwich, the condensation gathering on his drink. “I should have said something about wanting to do more, help more, about feeling…helpless. I should’ve told you, but I knew you would talk me out of it.”

“How would I talk you out of anything?” Kara protests, thinking of all the times he’d talked her out of terrible ideas, thinking of how he made her a better hero.

“Because you’d say I was already a hero. Without the suit. And you’d be right.” He laughs when he looks up to see Kara stunned into silence, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly as she thinks about the time _James_ said those words to _her_ —the day she was left helpless and powerless when so many people needed her. “Supergirl didn’t save the city. Kara Danvers, CatCo reporter, saved the city.” James tilts his head to the side as he continues to look at her, his smile similar to the one Clark gave her while they floated on their backs in the sky. It’s full of awe. “The truth is I didn’t tell you because I wanted to get out from under the Super shadow. I just—I forgot that powers and a suit isn’t what makes you a hero at all. And I’m so _sorry_ that I made you think my decision to lie was your fault.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Just like that?”

Kara nods, returning to her meal.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m _Supergirl_ ,” she says softly, winking for effect. “I have an endless capacity to forgive and forget.”

James opens his mouth to say something—maybe that she should hold a grudge for a little way, as comeuppance, or maybe to thank her, to call her terribly generous, she’s not quite sure—but before he can speak the door to the balcony flies open and Snapper Carr sticks his head out, glaring at them.

“Danvers! There you are! We don’t pay you for lunch breaks!” he shouts, rubbing his temples. “Get out there and write. Your article about Supergirl’s rebirth needs to be on my desk by the end of the day.”

“See?” James says, ignoring Snapper’s narrowed eyes. “You’re a hero, Kara Danvers.”

x

“I feel like he’s staring through the door.”

“He’s a cat, Kara, not a Kryptonian.”

“Yeah, but I can feel his eyes.”

“Stop being ridiculous, he was napping on the couch.”

“Listen, can you hear that? He’s meowing.”

“Cats tend to do that on occasion.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have locked him out of the room.”

“Kara—”

“I feel a little bad, Lena.”

“You’re the one who said you didn’t like it when he woke us up in the middle of the night. Besides, he’s fine.”

“I think he’s scratching at the door.”

“Kara?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we going to have this exact conversation every time you stay over?”

“I have a soft spot for him,” Kara whispers, shifting in bed so that she’s facing Lena. It’s too dark to make out the details of Lena’s face, but Kara can sense her smile anyway. “He’s the reason we met.”

“You have a soft spot for every dog and cat you’ve ever seen. Besides,” Lena turns onto her side and presses closer to Kara, kissing her briefly on the lips, “we would’ve met anyway, eventually. Snapper Carr gave you the worst puff piece of all time, remember?”

“I don’t know, I sort of liked it.”

“Better than the one about cat and cat owners?”

“Lena! Of course not!” Kara says dramatically, hand over her heart, leaning forward to kiss Lena and lingering. She thinks she gets a little carried away, her hand slipping under Lena’s shirt, her lips traveling down Lean’s jaw and neck.

“Do you—do you still want to let Judge in, then?” Lena asks, stammering just a little when Kara’s hand drifts.

“No, you’re right, he’ll be fine out there.” As she speaks, however, there’s a loud crash followed by a louder mewl, and Kara sits up with a sigh. “ _Rao_ , you’re right. He is a traitor of a cat.”


End file.
